

4 :».vv. i 


r. ^\ * 

V. rv - 

*« f '* 1 '. 

5 : f > 


•t; !*:!•.•• 

* ** 4 « * »• 


*■ 

' A'i ’iri-;' 

lAV'l * 

P 4 t *? • ? -• 

fr*! V', - • '• 

% • s' •«.. <• 

i ? ^ 

• \ ♦ ' S M • . I 

li rf*-;v. •»•. 

* j'’- a • ' 

• .• ■<- • ^ I • • 

. T '. •., ’. » V 

■» M - i a’a 

• * ' ' • * * 

1 ; j, ... ;', 


^ # 1 • 

» ■ ’ 

r.< •;• 

v::;. 

i'A.v 

y^iVi 

w ^,1 

^:l * 

’ V i 

4 V, ■*■' 

h\- 

O’ 

'w 

i K\ \ 

> * 4 « 

•}?jL 

: « -’f 

f * « i 

w *. * 
s • 4 « 

A%’ . .’ 

d h;. 

' 'V 

•4 • *« > 
1*. ;• 

-.V. 

'i\ I') ■ 


4 


yi 4 • 

;fc; 

L"* ' •* 

\ty 

Tbr. 


?? . wit. {»V^\U’Ci 


^ 1 j I ^ 


iPP 

*( <‘0*: 

# • *» 

: •» * ’,* » 

• ' j, ! •• 
**: 

«• 

•ii '.' 


^ i* »I 

"jr'i^ i* ' 

* • • a •■I ♦ « • ‘ 

iy. 

4 {*’5 

y- 

' Li -.1 *4 


;*ril 

14 •• • ' 

* •*, 


;\'r. 

. ,. T. 4 

■ ••: 4 • 

, ‘I 

••1 « 4. 


< ' Mk ' • ' 

a »\? ,t .\ 

h : '‘t’-* V 

‘4.*v . r 

■M 


J fl * • -• , ' *..'♦. . ,- 4 ( »• V- J 

C- 4 y*\ m *W'<' ' 

> * • iV:*;'. .*. .‘t %' ? i'::; ' 


^’v"; 

• v; » *'• ■* ■ ^ 

• » ♦> * • 
























arr- : ... „ 



i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

^_k'- 

@^ap... ;|ij 

^lielf ^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | 









} 














I 


I 


% 


j 


I 


k 


t 


»/ . 

•V 

-/ 

i 


4 


P 


1 






I 


^ » 

« 



J 


* A 

I + 



t 







'I 

K 


I 





4 


* 





.4 


> 


I 

4 



* 




4 


4 



I 


I 




% 


f 


t 



I 


I 




t 


•• 


t 








t 


t 



% 






t 

r 


< 



i « 

I 

* » • 


< . • • 


I 

-• t 






« 


, > 


/ 




t. 





* . » ^ % 

4 



> 





r 


« 


I*' 


< .. 





i ■- 

i _ t. 



^ ^>V’« " 

nf JIM ' '4 

,1.. ISflPU-. i. it- 


a- ■'''; 

'^> '* 't . . '• 'i 


‘^-^* ■ ‘ ■ . ■ ^ .Vi JLJi 

A< . f liv,! 




\> 1^.*’ 

c-; -'^ 

■ i:;' . (£ 


.t. 


iAVo.; 


♦ . '<* 


•<ii* « » ^ • • , 4 'I 





''t>'w 


' 1 'u'-V" -■**'•' • ' 




•I. 









. • c 


*/ • 




r • 


I 





r ; 

ti 


♦ ^ .{r i-. ^ 


k 






t 


" . 

1 . 




' « 
L - 
►: 




f 


•» 


S " 








* 


I’ 








'S. 


*b, - ■ 









- fa> 





V- I 





^ V-' * -■ . 



^ ‘ - ., '. V *; 


• 1 







f " . • 


V. 

>/' 




MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


THE SEA AND SHORE SERIES-NO. 12. 


Issued Monthly. i aaq 

Subscription Price, $3.oo Per Year. uoxujsjz-iA, xooi^. 

Copyrighted, 1889, hy Street cC* Smith. 

Entered at the Post-Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND; 

OR, 

THE KING OF THE MOUNTAINS. 


BY 


SEP 27188S 

■ Vc -; ' 


LIEUTENANT MURRAY, \ 




AUTHOR OF 


\ . 


“THE MASKED LADY,” “SPANISH MUSKETEEK,” “SCARLET 
FLAG,” “THE ITALIAN CONTRABANDIST,” etc. 


NEW YORK: 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

31 Rose Street. 


Pears’ Soap 

Fair white hands. 
Brightclear complexion 
Soft healthful skin. 

PEARS’ SOAP HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED IN LONDON 100 YEARS, 
both as a complexion and as a shaving soap, has ob- 
tained 15 international awards, and is now sold in 
every city of the world. It is the purest, cleanest, finest, 
most elegant and economical, and therefore the best of 
all soaps for general toilet purposes; and for use in 
the NURSERY it is unequaled. Tears’ Soap can now be 
had of nearly all Druggists, but be sure that you get the 
genuine, as there are worthless imitations. 





For foal Stomacli-Iffljairei Dipstion-DisoriereJ Liver. 


SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS. 

PRICE 25 CENTS PER BOX. 


Prepared only by THOS. BEECHAM, St. Helens, Lancashire, England. 
B, F, ALLEN & CO., Sole Agents 

For United States, 365 & 367 Canal St., New York. 

Who (if your druggist does not keep them) will mail Beecham’s 
Pills on receipt of price — but inquire first, (Please mention this paper.) 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

KING OF THE MOUNTAINS. 

Until quite lately the mountain region nearest to 
Naples, in the neighborhood of Salerno, Amalfi, and 
beyond, has been the most famous resort for brig- 
ands anywhere out of Spain. 

It is less than six months since a rich Englishman 
was seized, between Salerno and the plains of Pses- 
turn, and held for ransom in a heavy sum, which was 
finally paid according to the terms dictated by these 
Italian banditti. The government has been com- 
pelled for years to virtually admit its inability to 
cope with these active and dangerous mountaineers, 
whose guerilla warfare baffles all legitimate military 
operations. The local peasantry of the dangerous 
districts are nearly always in league with the rob- 
bers, and being faithful to their interests, form in 
one sense part* of the organization. 

It is almost impossible to obtain any information 
as to the haunts of the brigands, or to procure the 
services of capable guides to lead any expedition 
against them. Were the poor peasants inclined to 


6 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


act in this capacity, they dare not, as the savage re- 
venge of the outlaws would be sure to follow. Thus 
the government is in the worst possible situation as 
it regards protecting travelers from abroad, who are 
attracted to these classic spots in considerable num- 
bers annually. 

Until the advent of Victor Emmanuel, the bold- 
ness of the banditti in this region often led them into 
the very streets of Naples, and robberies were fre- 
quent under the very shadow of the king’s palace, 
while a passage at night through the long and lofty 
grotto of Posilipo, near the heart of the city, was a 
risk that few travelers cared to encounter. To 
reach the beautiful shores of Baiae, or return from 
thence, the Posilipo passage is the direct route, so 
that great inconvenience was realized by the visitors 
to Naples. 

This standing disgrace upon the government has 
been a great source of mortification to Italy, and the 
aggravating cases of complaint arising therefrom 
has caused more than one foreign nation to make it 
the subject of official reproach through the medium 
of its local consul. Though this pest is not even yet 
entirely removed, still comparative safety is insured 
to ordinary travel. 

How well we remember visiting the beautiful 
Baiae region some years ago, when our party dined 
on the terrace of an Italian inn, looking down upon 
the loveliest bay the sun ever shone upon. In the 
distance was purple Vesuvius, emitting the only 
smoke wreaths that dimmed the transparent atmos- 
phere with Procida and Ischia rising through a gold- 
en mist in the west. A couple of Italian men-of-war 
and numerous coasting vessels lay at our feet, with 
every spar and line of cordage duplicated in the blue 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 7 

waters, the whole backed by the craggy, indented 
shore, with its stern, confused, volcanic rocks, its 
gay villages and its low fishing huts, hiding and dis- 
playing ruins which dated from the earliest steps of 
civilization. 

What an accumulation of wonders we had seen 
that eventful day since our three black horses 
abreast, decorated with plumes and bells, had swept 
along the gay Chiaja in the morning. Through that 
famous grotto of Posilipo, a passage which had 
echoed to the tramp of Roman legions, away to the 
half -extinct crater of Solfatara, and to the neighbor- 
ing grand amphitheater, with its wild beasts’ dens, 
the quarters of the gladiators, and the main walls 
extant. 

Here thirty thousand spectators sometimes assem- 
bled to see men in the prime and vigor of life 
“butchered to make a Roman holiday.” 

Classic ground indeed ! 

And there, too, were various temples, all in partial 
ruins, as they should be after a thousand years and 
more. In the temple dedicated to Mercury, the Nea- 
politan peasant girls had danced with bare feet, 
for our amusement, the Tarantella, to the accompani- 
ment of their tambourines. 

Altogether it was a day to be long remembered, 
that delightful experience in the environs of Naples. 
But to our story of these Italian brigands. 

When Garibaldi, that gallant soldier of the people, 
the leader of the red-shirts, had turned over to Vic- 
tor Emmanuel the sovereignty of the southern por- 
tion of the peninsula, thus making perfect the regal 
splendor of his crown and Completing the union of 
Italy, the grateful monarch would have ennobled the 
brave sailor and soldier. Garibaldi, however, de- 


8 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


dined all remuneration and all honors, retiring 
quietly to his modest island home. 

It was at this period that the king began to realize 
the distracted condition of affairs, and the disregard 
of law and order which reigned in the Neapolitan 
territory. Might made right. Brigandage prospered. 
The roads and streets were dangerous even at broad 
day. The local authorities were weak and ineffi- 
cient, and little less than a reign of terror existed all 
over Southern Italy. The energetic monarch took 
in the position at once — the remedy was patent. 

The strong arm was required and applied with 
earnest purpose, until in the cities and large towns 
something like order was at length established, in 
place of the reigning chaos. The most daring char- 
acters, who had long lived by defying the laws, now 
fled to the mountains, and here in isolated bands still 
defied the government. 

The wild region which they made their home was 
almost inaccessible to those not familiar with the 
ways, and thus afforded a natural protection to the 
outlaws. 

Though comparatively isolated, these resorts were 
yet sufficiently near to populous districts, and espec- 
ially to the well-known routes of travel, to enable the 
banditti to make a hasty descent at any time, and to 
retreat with either prisoners or valuable booty, so 
that the rigor of the government in expelling the out- 
laws from the cities and large towns simply changed 
their field of operation. 

Among the notorious characters who had success- 
fully mocked the authorities for a series of years 
was a man who bore the name of Mezzoni, the dar- 
ing leader of the most successful band that existed 
in the mountains. This man had a fame extending 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


9 


all over Southern Europe, and had been the terror of 
citizens and travelers for a number of years. He was 
reputed to have amassed great wealth, to be very 
shrewd and cunning, and that he was able to outwit 
the government at all points, had been proven for 
years by his successful operations, especially in and 
about the environs of Naples. 

Mezzoni was thoroughly informed of all matters 
that it interested him to know, and had means of 
gaining intelligence which was perfectly inexplica- 
ble to the authorities. It was believed that he always 
acted as his own spy, and his facilities for disguise 
and the assuming of any character which he chose 
to personate, rendered him one of the most danger- 
ous villains of the time. 

For a long while the officials believed that they 
must have some traitor among themselves, as it was 
impossible to make a movement against the banditti 
which was not anticipated by them. 

This famous bravo had been known to penetrate 
into the city hotels of Naples, in female attire, 
where, under pretense of being a vender of coral or- 
naments, or some other local specialty, he gained the 
information which he sought, and retired unsus- 
pected. And yet no description of his person existed 
which was considered at all reliable ; he had some- 
how succeeded in frustrating all attempts at such ex- 
posure. 

He was talked of as possessing prodigious strength, 
and being of a hideous aspect of countenance, a man 
of mammoth proportions, and blood-thirsty to the last 
degree. 

Persons who had been kidnapped upon the road 
and held for ransom had never been permitted to see 
him personally, or if they had met him it was under 


10 


MEZZONI-THE BKIGAND. 


such cunning disguise that they knew him not. 
Even the police declared that his person was so en- 
tirely unknown to them that they might be brought 
into daily contact with him and yet not know it. 

Among the ISTeapolitan peasantry he was called the 
King of the Mountains. 

Still, even these people had never seen Mezzoni to 
know him ; if he had ever appeared among them it 
was not in his true character. When the police, 
therefore, tried cunningly to bribe them, or to ob- 
tain any information through these simple people, 
they honestly shook their heads and declared that 
they knew nothing of ihe famous leader — of course, 
they would not have betrayed him if it had been in 
their power — but, doubtless, they spoke the truth. 

Mezzoni had adopted an ingenious system of se- 
crecy as it concerned himself, which was of great ad- 
vantage to his various plans, enabling him to com- 
mand success which in any other instance would 
have been impossible. It was universally admitted 
that without some very extraordinary means at his 
command, quite beyond the knowledge of the police, 
such good fortune could not have attended the rob- 
ber’s career, and superstitious people talked about 
a league with evil spirits. 

The usual stories which circulate through an ex- 
cited community were rife as to his doings. Some, 
of course, were untrue, but more were born of the 
florid imaginations of those who circulated them. 
By some of these he was represented to be little less 
than a hero, by others a fiend incarnate, while there 
were occurrences almost daily, quite authentic, 
which served to give an air of reality to those stories 
which were purely inventions, as it regarded the fa- 
mous leader of the banditti. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


11 


The demand of a very heavy ransom and its pay- 
ment to Mezzoni, through the hands of his agents, 
also a daring robbery of diamonds from a French 
traveling party, had together aroused the govern- 
ment to a state of great irritation, and the long- 
standing reward which had been offered for the brig- 
and leader was doubled by a formal proclamation, 
besides a free pardon being promised to any comrades 
who should betray him to the authorities. 

This offer was posted in all public places, upon the 
roads, upon the rocks of the mountain sides, upon 
the trees, and at all of the wayside inns. Indeed, 
every publicity possible was given to the great gov- 
ernment reward as doubled in its former amount, 
and to be freely paid for the person of Mezzoni, or 
failing that, for his head. Government was at last 
in earnest, and every possible resource was brought 
to bear in order to get possession of the famous out- 
law. 

The price set upon the robber’s head by this last 
increase now amounted to the extraordinary sum of 
fifty thousand dollars — a premium certainly large 
enough to command the best efforts to accomplish his 
arrest. Men of intelligence, who had never engaged 
in the detection of rogues as a business, were led to 
consider the matter, and Mezzoni found himself pur- 
sued with a vigor and resolve transcending that of 
any previous period of his eventful career. Only a 
brief quiet was caused by this official activity, and 
soon after the bravo was at work again as success- 
fully as ever. 

It was noticeable that no large band seemed to be 
operating together upon the roads or elsewhere, as 
most of the robberies which came to the knowledge 
of the authorities were committed by two or three 


12 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


banditti at a time. A large number of men never 
showed themselves on these occasions, though it was 
believed that, if necessary, a signal would have sum- 
moned any required number where resistance was 
offered. 

In the instance of the robbery of the French 
traveling partv, before referred to, the travelers 
testified before the authorities that there was but 
one man visible when they were stopped upon the 
road. He, however, was armed at every point, and 
when the driver of the vehicle was ordered to halt, it 
was with a revolver pointed at his head. He was 
told, sternly, that if he obeyed he would not be 
harmed, but that if he offered to move from his seat 
or to start his horses until the robber bade him to do 
so, a bullet would be sent through his head. 

The brigand then addressed the party within the 
coach, composed of a gentleman, his wife, and a 
maid servant, still holding his revolver cocked and 
ready for instant use. He told them that he did not 
desire to summon others of the band — raising a sil- 
ver call which hung about his neck as significant of 
the manner in which he could do so — but that they 
had only to comply with his demands quietly and 
there need be no alarm. . 

The robber was very cool through all this ; he was 
in no hurry ; indeed, it was inipossible, as the French 
gentleman said, not to admire his perfect sang-froid. 

His first demand was for a casket of diamonds be- 
longing to the lady ; and it was perfectly plain to 
them that he knew their number, their value, and 
even their style of setting. He also designated, very 
understandingly, some other valuables which he 
desired, and which, of course, under the circum- 
stances, it was thought be^t to give u.p quietly. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 13 

“Were you armed?” asked the examining officer. 

“I was not.” 

“It would have been better, perhaps.” 

But the gentleman freely admitted that if he had 
possessed a revolver he should have hesitated to risk 
the lives of the rest of the party, being ladies only, 
by the use of a deadly weapon. He should have 
paused, however well armed, before provoking re- 
taliation from one who was not only himself fully 
armed, but who could doubtless call any needed 
number to his aid in case of a struggle. With a 
male friend to help him, both armed, the French- 
man said he would have resisted, but not with two 
women dependent upon him alone. The robber had 
addressed them in excellent French, and was not by 
any means vulgar. 

When asked to describe this man all were puzzled 
to do so. They could only say that he seemed to be 
a tall, stout-built man, with a heavy beard, and a 
disfiguring wound was also remembered as being 
conspicuous upon his left cheek just under the eye. 
But disguised, as he probably was, the description 
of his figure was not to be relied upon, though a scar 
upon the face might have been immovable. 

When under such an excitement as attends upon 
an experience ot this sort, few persons can trust to 
their memory to describe a figure seen but for four 
or five minutes, at most, and never before nor since. 

The instance, before mentioned, when the heavy 
ransom was demanded and paid, was also so pecu- 
liar as to require mention in this connection, and as 
familiarizing the reader with the doings of these 
brigands who will enact so important a part in the 
coming chapters. 

An Englishman had come to Salerno by cars, and 


14 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


had there taken a vehicle for Psestum, some twenty 
miles distant, to visit the famous temples there, and 
which are more than two thousand years old. He 
had stopped and breakfasted at a little inn by the 
road-side in Salerno, and was to return to Naples by 
a more direct route, so as to reach his hotel the same 
night. 

It is a lonely and dreary road, and the traveler 
had put a pair of pocket pistols in his overcoat, 
though he scarcely thought it worth while to do so. 
But the Englishman was not destined to reach Paes- 
tum on that occasion. About one league beyond 
Salerno the vehicle was suddenly brought to a stand- 
still, the driver ordered to dismount, as he was rid- 
ing one of the two horses, and to lie with his face to 
the ground. The terrified man obeyed instantly. The 
door of the vehicle was then thrown open, and the 
traveler was coolly ordered to get out by a man who 
presented himself before him, armed to the teeth. 

As the Englishman got out of the vehicle he man- 
aged to seize one of the pistols, a small single-barrel 
weapon of the old style, which was in his overcoat 
lying upon the seat by his side. This he put into his 
coat-pocket, and then complied with the robber’s 
order. Once outside of the coach he found himself 
confronted with but one individual, and felt that by 
waiting for the proper moment, he could use his pis- 
tol to such effect as to wound or kill the robber. 

“You have no valuables about you,” said the ban- 
dit, very quietly, holding his revolver cocked in his 
hand ready for use. 

“Very true.” 

“I shall trouble you to sign a paper which I have 
here, and we will send it back to your friends in this 


IVIEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


15 


city, who will be so good as to forward money for 
your release.” 

“How much?” 

“They will know,” was the reply 

“Supposing I refuse?” 

“You will not be so foolish.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it will cost your life.” 

“You are very confident. 

“It is my style,” was the cool rejoinder. 

The brigand stooped down, and placing the paper 
upon his knee, was filling in a date and preparing it 
for signature when the traveler thought this was his 
chance, so stepping back a couple of paces, he aimed 
and fired his pistol at the robber’s head. The man 
did not even raise his face, but coolly finished his 
penciled writing, then turning to the Englishman, 
he said, without the least emotion : 

“Perhaps you would like to try your other pistol, 
as you have failed with this!” 

“It seems that you are bullet proof,” said the 
traveler, in amazement. 

“Not exactly. When you next have occasion to 
dine at a country inn ” 

“Ah, I understand, I will take better care not to 
leave my pistols in my outside coat-pocket.” 

“I see you understand the hint, which may be of 
future service to you.” 

The terrified driver was ordered to mount his horse 
once more, and to change his course as directed. The 
Englishman was offered the one alternative — to sign 
the paper or be shot, and he saw very plainly that 
the brigand meant exactly what he threatened. In- 
deed the man’s imperturbable coolness astonished 
him, and he saw that he was entirely at his mercy. 


16 


MEZZONI THE BBIGAND. 


The sum demanded for his ransom was left blank, 
but there was no use to hesitate, and he absolutely 
signed the paper to save his life. He then took his 
seat in the vehicle as directed, and it proceeded on a 
different road from that whence it had come. 

After reaching a mountain path the driver was dis- 
patched with the paper, addressed to the friends of 
the captured man, and he was paid to hand it to the 
landlord of the inn at Salerno, who would forward 
it. They were soon joined by a couple of men armed 
like the first, and from him they received certain 
orders relating to the prisoner, who was conducted 
by them to a secret cave many miles into the moun- 
tains. Here, after three weeks’ confinement, the 
heavy ransom of five thousand pounds sterling was 
paid, and he was released. 

These were two events which had so lately aroused 
the government and led to the doubling of the re- 
ward heretofore set upon the head of Mezzoni. 

Still none of his comrades seemed tempted to be- 
tray him, though by doing so they could have se- 
cured pardon and independence for life. The same 
mystery remained. Sometimes for weeks there 
would be no overt act brought to the notice of the 
government. It was observable that no mistakes 
were made as to attacking the wrong parties, but all 
that were laid under contribution were attacked at 
the right time and place, and were called upon for 
valuables, which showed a previous knowledge of 
the victims, on the part of the brigands. 

Every stranger who came to Naples was watched, 
and if found to be a desirable victim, he was sure to 
be met at some proper time and place, and relieved 
of his valuables. No petty thieving was indulged in. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


17 


The game must be worth the trouble it would cost 
or it was not interfered with. 


CHAPTER II. 

STAND AND DELIVER. 

Just where the Strada di Toledo enters the great 
square of Naples, on which is situated the royal pal- 
ace, and the St. Carlo Theater, was located a large 
jewelry establishment, the branch of a London 
Jewish house, and forming one of the richest collec- 
tions of goods of that description in the city. 

This store was the daily resort of the better 
classes, and commanded a heavy trade in diamonds 
and precious stones of all descriptions. It was lo- 
cated under the very shadow of the royal palace, 
and in the heart of Naples. One morning, about a 
month after the reward set upon the head of Mezzoni 
had been doubled, the proprietor of the establish- 
ment referred to came to his store at the usual hour, 
to find the watchful man, who slept inside, gagged 
and tied, while the most valuable goods had been 
quietly abstracted. 

Of course the first thing to be done was to release 
the poor watchman from his painful situation. 

It was noticeable that nearly the entire stock in 
the store had been overhauled and examined, only 
the richest goods, and those most portable, having 
been taken, while the heavy articles were left un- 
disturbed. 

The watchman’s story was soon told. 

He had been awakened from sleep, while he was 
lying upon the small cot, placed nightly for his use 
in the center of the shop, and a gag was placed in 


18 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


his mouth at once, so that he could make no noise 
by way of giving an alarm. He was then tied se- 
curely to the bed in a recumbent position, and a 
sheet was thrown over his face. Here he had been 
obliged to lie, unable to move or speak, and hear 
the operations of the rogues. 

Of course he could not see, and indeed he could 
hardly breathe, until the gag was removed in the 
morning. He could not say certainly, but believed 
that there were only two robbers engaged in the 
affair. They »eemed to know everything about the 
establishment, and to have keys that opened all 
places which were secured by locks. There ap- 
peared to have been no hurry about the robbery ; 
all was accomplished quietly, and with very few 
words spoken, as the watchman testified. 

This bold and successful burglary created the 
greatest consternation in Naples. People began to 
ask each other what use there was in supporting an 
elaborate and expensive system of police if they 
were not able to prevent outrages so gross and 
damaging to the public interest as this robbery, 
within sight of their very headquarters. It was true 
that the Jewish house which had suffered received 
little sympathy from the trade generally in their 
line, as they were looked upon by the Italian jewel- 
ers as innovators and rivals to a considerable de- 
gree. But still the principle was the same, and who 
might be the next victim? was the natural query 
which merchants asked each other with consterna- 
tion depicted in their faces. 

Of course this robbery was attributed to Mezzoni, 
and seemed to be a sort of defiant stroke in answer 
to the doubling of the reward offered by the govern- 
ment. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


19 


The value of the goods abstracted was estimated 
at one hundred thousand dollars as the very lowest 
amount to be named. There was not the first clew 
as to where they had been conveyed, or indeed how 
the robbers had entered or left the store. Every- 
thing in the shape of windows and doors was found 
securely locked, and in the usual condition in the 
morning. Even the iron safe, which had been 
opened, was found to be locked after the valuables 
had been abstracted, and so with various drawers 
and small cases about the establishment. 

The mystery only deepened on examination. No 
neighbor had heard any unusual noise in the night. 

In twenty-four hours after the event special re- 
wards were offered through every available chan- 
nel, promising most liberally for any information. 
The police were set to work, and no steps were un- 
tried in the endeavor to discover the perpetrators of 
the bold and heavy robbery. Woolf & Co., the firm 
who had been the sufferers in this instance, tele- 
graphed to London, and sent also a special messen- 
ger to consult with the head of the house, suggest- 
ing that a thorough and careful English detective 
be sent at once to Naples to ferret out the guilty 
parties. 

Nothing was talked of at the clubs and in public 
places but the great robbery of Woolf & Co. It was 
more than a nine days’ wonder, and seemed destined 
to be a lasting mystery. 

Diamonds are always marketable and difficult to 
identify, especially when removed from their set- 
tings, hut if any of the other articles were to be 
offered for sale, in their original shape, such careful 
description had been printed of them and distributed, 


20 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


as to lead, it was hoped, to the detection of those 
concerned in their abstraction. 

A young Italian clerk, engaged in the store, had 
been arrested on suspicion, but was finally released. 
Feeling justly aggrieved at his treatment, the youth 
at once brought an action for damages against the 
foreign firm, and having the sympathy of his coun- 
trymen with him, was awarded a handsome compen- 
sation for what he considered his injured honor. 

‘‘Will Woolf & Co. keep open?” asked one young 
Neapolitan of another at a club-house in the Strada 
di Toledo. 

“Oh, yes, they are rich,” was the answer, “and 
have only to draw on the London house for any 
amount.” 

“Every one agrees that it must have been Mez- 
zoni to have accomplished such a job.” 

“Undoubtedly. And do you see again, this is a 
foreigner who suffers? Italians are not robbed.” 

“True, nor are they disturbed upon the roads. It 
is the French, English, and Americans who lose.” 

“Not always; but it is thought that wherever 
Mezzoni’s hand is seen his countrymen are spared.” 

“After all, the rascal robs where he can realize 
the most, I suspect.” 

“There was that diamond robbery from the French 
party, and the heavy ransom from the Englishman, 
and as we see the jewelers, Woolf & Co., are for- 
eigners again.” 

“Yes, these three jobs may he safely put down to 
the charge of Mezzoni.” 

“The rascal is intelligent. The Frenchman testi- 
fied that he spoke to him in his own language.” 

“Ay; and the Englishman testified that he spoke 
to him in excellent English.” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


21 


There was this peculiarity, as it regarded the 
operations of the King of the Mountains, that Ital- 
ians did not seem to be put under contributions to 
supply his purse ; it was foreigners only who were 
compelled to replenish his exchequer. This was un- 
doubtedly one reason why the Neapolitans were not 
more restive under his depredations — they were not 
the immediate sufferers. 

The activity of the government even was more the 
result of foreign pressure brought to bear upon it 
than from any sense of self-respect or regard for the 
sacredness of the law. They assumed a virtue if 
they had it not, and, after offering a heavy reward 
for the head of the famous outlaw, the officials 
seemed to think they had performed their duty. 

About a month had transpired since the robbery 
of the store of Woolf & Co., when a party of Ameri- 
cans, consisting of two ladies and two gentlemen, 
who had been passing the day in examining that un- 
equaled curiosity, the exhumed city of Pompeii, 
were just starting at tw:ilight to return to Naples. 
They were all seated together in a two-horse vehicle, 
driven by an Italian coachman. 

Scarcely had they got fairly under way upon the 
road, passing a very thinly inhabited section, when 
the carriage was suddenly stopped by a couple of 
men on foot, one pointing his pistol at the driver 
and informing him that if he moved from his seat, 
or started his horses, he was a dead man, while the 
other, presenting himself at the door of the vehicle, 
pistol in hand, demanded the purses and watches of 
tlie party. 

One of the gentlemen instantly sprang out of the 
vehicle, and struck the highwayman a blow that 
felled him to the earth as though he had been hit 


22 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


by a sledge-hammer. At this juncture the fellow at 
the horses’ heads instantly fired a shot, which in 
turn caused the American to drop to the ground be- 
side the fallen robber. The highwayman rose at 
once from the earth, and without seeming to notice 
particularly the blow and fall which he had ex- 
perienced, still retaining his revolver, presented it 
at the other American, who was now hastening to 
assist his friend, and said in good English : 

“You will simplify this affair very much by hand- 
ing me your purses and watches at once. I have 
no desire to shoot you.” 

“Let them have them,” exclaimed the terrified la- 
dies, holding out their own, as the second robber 
now came to the side of the vehicle. 

“I am unarmed, or I would shoot you first,” said 
the American. “Have you murdered him?” pointing 
to his insensible friend, who still lay upon the 
ground. 

“Your purses and watches first — there will be 
time enough to attend to your friend after ward, ” 
was the answer. 

While the second robber rifled the person of the 
insensible man, those in the vehicle gave up their 
valuables, and in five minutes more both of the 
highwaymen had left them and disappeared in the 
fast-increasing darkness. Fortunately the Ameri- 
can who had saluted the first robber with such a 
blow had only been stunned by a scalp wound from 
the other’s pistol, but which came within an inch of 
taking his life. 

Congratulating each other that they had only lost 
that which could easily be replaced the party were 
once more soon on their way to the city. 

“That was a splendid knock-down argument of 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


23 


yours,” said the American, who had not been in- 
jured, to his companion. 

“Ay; but fists against pistols stand no chance at 
all. If we had been armed there would have been 
a different ending to this affair.” 

“Should you know that fellow you knocked down 
were you to see him again?” asked the first speaker. 

“Hardly; yet I saw one singular mark, I think. 
It was a long cut wound under the left eye.” 

“I saw that; such a wound as a saber cut might 
have left.” 

“The fellow had wonderfully bright eyes also.” 

“Like a tiger’s,” said one of the ladies. 

The ladies, however, had been too much fright- 
ened at the sudden and unexpected assault to mark 
any personal peculiarities in the attacking parties. 
But now, quite reassured, they were devoting them- 
selves to stanching the blood which still fiowed from 
the scalp wound. 

“Is it not outrageous, and almost beyond belief, 
that such an occurrence could happen so near the 
city?” said one of the ladies. 

“If it were not for this wound,” said her compan- 
ion, “I should not care much. It is our first real ad- 
venture on this side of the Atlantic. ” 

“It was positively foolish to show fight,” said he 
who had been wounded ; “but then one doesn’t al- 
ways stop to be prudent.” 

“There was some satisfaction in the blow you 
gave that villain. He fell as though he was dead.” 

There was the usual official ceremony gone through 
with by the police, and a grand flourish of pre- 
tended indignation and effort to arrest somebody, 
but as usual the activity blazed up for a moment, 
then ended in smoke. 


24 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


‘^How much did you lose?” asked an official of the 
gentleman who entered the complaint. 

“Four gold watches and about three hundred dol- 
lars in money,” was the answer. 

“Anything more?” 

“A dangerous scalp wound was received.” 

“Ah, yes, that is recorded.” 

All being booked by the official, here the matter 
ended. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


25 


CHAPTER III. 

A GALLANT ACT. 

Tho small steamer which plies between Naples 
and the island of Capri every other day during the 
summer months, is sure to be well filled with tour- 
ists who desire to see that marine marvel, the Blue 
Grotto, and visit the ruins of Tiberius’ twelve villas, 
erected in honor of the gods. The boat starts early 
in the morning, so as to touch at Sorrento both 
going and coming, and returns to Naples before 
night. 

It was on a bright April morning when the steamer 
left the city, well filled with American and English 
travelers, to make the usual round trip, that Walter 
Hammond, a young American, found himself on 
hoard. The boat was rather overladen with passen- 
gers, attracted by the promise of fine weather, but 
the entire trip being in-shore, smooth water was 
pretty sure to prevail, and little was thought about 
the matter. The steamer sped on her way safely, 
and all was as merry as possible on board. 

By and by the steamer from Genoa hove in sight 
by the western entrance of the bay, and the Capri 
steamer turned considerably out of her course to 
give the passengers an opportunity to see the larger 
vessel come into the harbor under a full head of 
steam, each craft saluting the other by dipping its 
flag. 

The two steamers were now so near together that 
the captains hailed each other, and were about to 


26 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


separate, when the orders to the respective helms- 
men were misunderstood, and the helm of one or 
both wrongly set. As both were under headway a 
collision was the inevitable result, cutting the 
smaller vessel open at her starboard quarter so as to 
endanger the lives of all on board. 

The Capri steamer began to fill at once, the break- 
age being below the water-line, and with the ut- 
most skill and activity in launching boats from both 
vessels, it seemed nearly impossible to save all the 
passengers. Walter Hammond had been to sea as 
supercargo to India and elsewhere, besides being 
naturally prompt and energetic in an emergency. 
To his activity and knowledge of the proper man- 
agement of a boat, many persons owed their lives 
on that occasion. The great requisite in such a catas- 
trophe is coolness and self-possession, which quali- 
ties he clearly exhibited. 

Especially was this the case in the instance of a 
young English girl who, after being placed in one of 
the rescuing boats, with her father, was by some 
singular accident crowded over the side and into 
the sea. The boat was loaded with human beings to 
the very water’s edge, and could not be turned 
about to pick her up, as she was swept away by the 
tide. Young Hammond was steering the boat, 
which had nearly reached the side of the large 
steamer when the accident occurred. Turning to the 
two oarsmen, he said : 

“Pull to the steamer and get these people on 
board — be lively about it— then come after me.” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the seamen, redoubling 
their efforts at the oars. 

While he spoke he had thrown off his coat, vest, 
and shoes, and now plunged into the sea, swimming 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


27 


boldly after the girl, who was already some two 
hundred feet away, but still buoyed up by her dress, 
which was fast losing its sustaining power. 

He called out to her ; 

“Spread out your hands flat upon the water, and 
keep them in motion. ” 

“I shall drown!” she cried. 

“No, you won’t!” he shouted — “nothing of the 
kind. Keep your arms in motion. ” 

“I shall drown!” was her only answer. 

The young American was nearing the girl very 
fast, and all eyes were turned toward them ; but the 
buoyancy of her clothes was gone, and at that mo- 
ment she threw up her arms, and was indeed sink- 
ing. 

Two more strokes and Walter Hammond had 
seized a scrap of her floating dress, and after a brief 
struggle, in which he was himself more than once 
submerged, he succeeded in getting her head fairly 
above the water, and struck out again for the 
steamer. 

It was a hard struggle, for the stout swimmer was 
greatly impeded by his own clothing. But the 
small boat he had left having now got its load of 
people all upon the steamer’s deck, was just turning 
to come to him, with the girl’s father in the stern. 
The swimmer was breasting it bravely, holding the 
girl’s head above the waves, frequently at the cost 
of his own head going under for the moment. 

On came the boat, now driven wildly in the fran- 
tic efforts of the seamen to reach them before both 
should sink. 

Walter Hammond could no longer make any 
headway, he could only sustain his burthen and his 
own head above the waves by his steady but very 


2S MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 

moderate action of treading the water. The fact 
was, his strength was failing him rapidly, but the 
boat had reached them at last. One brave effort he 
made to help the girl as they seized her and drew 
her into the boat, and then he sank back into the 
sea, too weak and exhausted for further effort. 

His own life came very near being sacrificed ; but 
a boat-hook was thrust into his clothes, by which 
means he was drawn to the side of the little craft, 
and taken in by the strong arms of the two sailors. 
Here he sank insensible upon the bottom of the 
boat, and was pulled rapidly to the side of the 
steamer, where he was soon resuscitated, and in an 
hour was quite himself again. This was the singular 
and romantic introduction of Marion Bray and Wal- 
ter Hammond. 

Colonel Manius Bray was a retired English officer, 
who had come to Italy with his daughter at the 
close of her boarding-school career. The father 
was himself rather an invalid, suffering severely 
from chronic rheumatism, and had hoped to reap 
some healthful advantages from this summer trip in 
Southern Italy. He was a widower, and Marion was 
his only child, the relationship between them being 
one of the tenderest affection. The English girl was 
not yet twenty ; but having lost her mother in early 
childhood, she had grown up self-reliant to a de- 
gree unusual in one of her age. She had enjoyed 
excellent educational advantages, and was very ma- 
ture both in mind and in person for one so youthful. 

Marion would have been pronounced handsome in 
any company. Her eyes were blue and large, with a 
natural tei:iderness in them that nothing could 
drive away. 

The face was oval and tinted with the color of 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


29 


health. Her hair was marvelously luxuriant and of 
a soft and delicate golden hue, presenting a rather 
striking contrast with her black eyebrows and long 
black eyelashes. She was above the medium height, 
and her figure was well rounded and graceful. 

We need not here record the profuse words of 
gratitude expressed by the old soldier to young Ham- 
mond, nor those of the blushing and beautiful girl. 
Walter thought he had never seen a more lovely 
creature in his life, and he would have been happy 
to go through fire to serve her, as he had done 
through water, if it were necessary. It was very 
natural that an intimacy should follow hard upon 
such a very peculiar introduction, and thus during 
the next fortnight, in that *city by the sea, these two 
were scarcely separated from each other for an hour 
of the sunny days. 

The colonel could only act as an escort for his 
daughter to places where they could ride, as his 
lameness was of a nature to prevent his walking 
except with the greatest inconvenience and with 
two canes. But he did not hesitate to trust Marion 
to the care of the young American in their visits to 
the museum, art galleries, and other attractions 
within the city. Both of the young people spoke 
Italian, and were thus enabled to make the most of 
their visits and excursions about the Neapolitan 
capital. 

Walter Hammond was engaged in mercantile life, 
and his present visit to Naples was in the interests 
of the house in New York, of which his father was 
the senior partner. He was just twenty-four years 
of age, and already a junior partner in the concern. 
His prospects in life were excellent, but his present 
possessions were not by any means large. He had 


30 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


two sisters and a mother in America, and his father, 
after whom he was named, was a very wealthy 
citizen. 

He was in the possession of robust health, was ex- 
ceedingly strong and well developed, and in college, 
where he had graduated at eighteen, had always 
led his class in all athletic sports. He was an excel- 
lent shot with either rifle or pistol, and, as was the 
college custom, had carefully practiced the art of 
self-defense or pugilism. Thus, in matters of physi- 
cal training, Walter Hammond had received as care- 
ful instructions as he had in mental culture. Few 
professional athletes were his equal. 

His intercourse with Marion Bray had been a 
source of infinite pleasure to him ; and after attend- 
ing to his business matters at the usual hours, he 
was sure to he by her side. They had read the same 
books, and were fond of the same authors, and in- 
deed were in consonance in nearly every matter of 
taste and refinement. The old soldier looked on with 
satisfaction at their most unobjectionable inter- 
course. He had never seen, he thought, a more 
manly and less affected young fellow. 

“Where is Mr. Hammond to-day?” asked the 
colonel of his daughter one afternoon, when the 
young American had not made his appearance as 
usual. 

“He said he should be busy all day to-day. You 
know he is dispatching a ship to America, and she 
is nearly ready to sail.” 

“That’s right ; he shouldn’t neglect business that 
has been intrusted to him.” 

“He seems very conscientious about it.” 

“I like the man,” said the colonel, pleasantly, as 
he blew the smoke of his Havana upward. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


31 


“We have reason to be grateful to him/’ said 
Marion, earnestly. 

“Indeed we have; I should have lost you, my 
child, but for his daring and manly rescue.” 

“It was nearly the end of your Marion, that is a 
fact, papa.” 

“Such an act in France would have commanded 
the insignia of the Legion of Honor,” said the father. 

“It was bravely done,” she murmured to herself, 
in a thoughtful mood. 

“Does he ever speak of his family at home?” 

“Oh, yes. He has a mother and father living and 
two sisters. He describes his mother so tenderly 
that I have fallen in love with her.” 

“I shall be jealous, Marion.” 

“Ho fear, papa.” 

And the fair young girl came to his side, parted 
the thin gray locks from his forehead and kissed him 
lovingly. He patted her cheek as he gazed proudly 
at his daughter. A carriage was called, and they 
drove out to watch the queer street scenes. 

“Cleanliness and the free use of water are among 
the lost arts of Naples,” said the colonel. 

“And drainage a myth,” suggested Marion. 

“Ay; the city smells rank to heaven. ” 

“Mr. Hammond calls it dear, delightful, dirty 
Naples,” said Marion. 

“Very good, it is both dirty and attractive,” said 
the colonel. “A sort of beggar’s paradise.” 

The old soldier spoke truly; there is no quarter 
free from beggary. Murillo’s “Beggar Boy” is re- 
peated every hour of the day. Lazarus and Dives 
jostle each other everywhere. The palace and the 
hovel are contiguous, starvation and abundance, ele- 


32 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


gance and rags, are here in juxtaposition. There is 
no “West End’’ in Naples. 


CHAPTER IV. 

HELD FOR RANSOM. 

No traveler would care to visit Psestum but for 
the sake of seeing the ruins here, still extant, of 
Greek temples, and which form the sole attraction. 

The locality now contains but one miserable tav- 
ern, ^ the grounds being covered with thorns and 
weeds, and infested by snakes. 

A straggling, sickly population, eaten up by the 
local fever and led by malaria, is a sad sight to be- 
hold. Even in ancient times, when Psestum was 
rich and populous, it was noted for the unwholesome 
atmosphere which prevailed there. 

However, to the student of history, it is a favorite 
resort for a brief hour or so, no traveler pretending 
to sleep there or in its immediate vicinity. To those 
who can appreciate the simple majesty of Greek 
architecture, Psestum is a positive revelation, how- 
ever pestilential and difficult of access. Six hundred 
years before Christ, this city of Neptune, as its 
original Greek name signifies, was a capital city of 
wealth and grandeur, where art and arms fiourished, 
and its citizens reveled in the pride of life. 

A party had been made up with a purpose of visit- 
ing the temples, composed of Colonel Bray, Marion, 
and an American lady and gentleman, who were to 
be joined by Walter Hammond — making a company 
of five persons. 

They were to proceed by railroad to Salerno, and 
thence to go by carriage to the locality of the tern- 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


33 


pies. But on the morning selected for the excursion 
Colonel Bray had received a note from young Ham- 
mond, stating that he found himself compelled to re- 
main in the city, as his vessel was expected to sail 
that day, and he must be present to properly dis- 
patch her at the custom-house, at the same time ex- 
pressing his disappointment at not being able to join 
the party as proposed. 

The colonel and Marion would have been glad to 
relinquish the trip, under the circumstances, were it 
not that the other members of the party had made 
their arrangements to go, and it would seriously in- 
terfere with their plans to defer it. So they all started 
at the usual hour, and left young Hammond to dis- 
patch his ship for America, and which he had been 
engaged for some weeks past in freighting. It was 
most delightful weather, and the travelers were in 
fine spirits. 

‘H am very sorry to leave Mr. Hammond behind,” 
said the colonel to his daughter. ‘‘There seems al- 
ways to be one drawback to every excursion.” 

“He is so well informed about these regions,” said 
Marion, “that through his intelligence one sees with 
increased interest and understanding.” 

“He is the very best of company anywhere,” added 
the colonel, who had become very fond of the gal- 
lant preserver of his daughter. 

“He has promised to go with us to Baiae.” 

“To-morrow?” 

“Yes.” 

“His ship will have sailed then, I suppose.” 

The party having reached the temples after a long 
and lonely drive, had passed two or three hours in 
their careful examination, and were on their return 
without having met with any important experience, 


34 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


when they chanced to meet another party of tourists. 
From them they learned that brigands had been seen 
upon the road on the previous day, and one party 
had been stopped and robbed by them, between 
Psestum and Salerno. 

This was not very pleasant news to our party ; it 
was already near nightfall, and a sense of undefined 
uneasiness gradually came over them. . They knew 
of the occasional raids of the banditti, but the pres- 
ent was thought to be a perfectly safe time for their 
trip. While they were briefly discussing the matter 
they descried a couple of horsemen, just in advance 
of them, drawn up by the side of the road. 

‘‘Those men are waiting for us,’’ said the colonel. 

“Are you armed?” asked the other gentleman. 

“No, I had no idea that it was necessary.” 

“I am in the same situation.” 

The suspense of the party was soon over, for as 
they came up abreast of the horsemen the two riders, 
after ordering the driver to stop and not dare to 
move on pain of being instantly shot, appeared one 
at each side of the coach, revolver in hand. One, 
who seemed to be the leader, said in very good 
English : 

“Your valuables instantly — watches and purses. 
Time is precious.” 

“Who are you?” demanded the colonel. 

“Masters of this road.’’ 

“Lucky for you we are unarmed,” replied the 
Englishman, but, in common with the rest of the 
party, at the same time delivering up his watch. 

“Take off your gloves, ladies,” said the leading 
robber. “I will trouble you to make haste.” 

“What is that for?” asked the colonel. 

“We will relieve them of further care of those dia- 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


35 


mond rings,” said the robber. ‘‘Not the gold ones, 
ladies, only those precious stones.” 

This part of the business having been accomplished 
the leader blew a shrill whistle upon a silver call 
hanging at his breast, and four men, bearing a 
Sedan chair, made their appearance from behind the 
rocky hill-side, where they had been waiting. 

“You will all please get out of the carriage,” con- 
tinued he who had acted as spokesman, except you, 
sir,” designating the colonel; “you are lame, and it 
is of no consequence in your instance.” 

“How did he know that?” thought the colonel. 

Of course, there was nothing for them to do but to 
obey under the circumstances. 

The moment that Marion stepped upon the ground 
she was instantly seized and placed in the Sedan 
chair, the door of which having been quickly locked 
the four men took the poles and disappeared with 
their burden so rapidly that the whole was accom- 
plished before any one could have anticipated it or 
have interfered for a moment. Colonel Bray was 
frantic with rage, but he could do nothing against 
these armed men. 

He was told by the way of pacifying him that his 
daughter would be respected and carefully attended 
by one of her own sex until ransomed by the pay- 
ment of five thousand pounds. The time and place 
of payment would be duly designated, and in the 
meantime the colonel was told he might rest assured 
of the entire safety of his child, provided he kept 
good faith with the brigands. 

Any attempt to ferret out the hiding-place of the 
banditti would be resented, and any legal or military 
interference would cost his daughter’s life. This 


36 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


might be depended upon. In vain were all pleadings 
and protestations of the old officer. 

‘‘We make no terms.’’ 

“Take me and release my child.” 

“It will not answer our purpose.” 

“My God! can I do nothing?” 

“Pay the ransom,” was the answer. 

It was pitiful to see the old man’s agony at thus 
being separated from his child. He lost all anger 
now, and tears only came to his relief. He could 
hardly realize the state of the case to have Marion 
thus torn from him before his very eyes. It seemed 
more like a troubled dream than like reality, and he 
looked wildly about him, as though he expected to 
awake and find relief. 

Colonel Bray had struggled out of the vehicle, and 
though it was now nearly dark he refused to leave 
the spot, until at last he was overpersuaded by his 
companions, and came to realize that Marion was 
doubtless already half a league away from them. 

During the time they had remained the brigands 
had quietly pocketed the booty taken from the party, 
and turning their horses’ heads had walked away in 
no apparent hurry, following the direction taken by 
the Sedan chair containing Marion. 

The colonel could not be pacified, but continued to 
regret the want of “fire-arms to fight these devils 
with,” as he said. 

“Even if we had weapons, you see how easily they 
could have summoned any number they had required 
to assist them,” said the other gentleman. 

“I should know the spokesman were I to meet him 
again,” said the colonel, “though the villain’s face 
was evidently disguised.” 

“How?” asked his companion. 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


37 


a heavy scar under his left eye, caused by a 
saber cut, I should say. It was an ugly wound, and 
in a very conspicuous place.’’ 

“I saw that,” said the other. 

“I wonder if our driver was in league with the ras- 
cals?” said the colonel, in a low voice. 

“I do not think so— he was too thoroughly fright- 
ened. There was no pretense about that. Even 
when he started up again he could hardly hold his 
reins.” 

The reader must not think that the situation was 
an easy one for Colonel Bray. What could he do? If 
he went to the authorities and demanded their aid, 
and troops were sent into the mountains to hunt up 
the robbers, he would simply imperil his child’s life, 
but he could not hope to liberate her by such means. 
It was not a desire to punish the villains that now 
actuated him. It was to obtain possession of his child 
alive and unharmed, that he must strive. He knew 
enough of the system pursued by the brigands to be- 
lieve that Marion would be safe in all respects so 
long as there was a reasonable prospect of the pay- 
ment of the ransom. His policy was then clear. 

Antagonistic means were to be avoided. 

But the matter of the ransom was a serious one to 
him. He was not worth the amount of the sum de- 
manded, being only an officer on half pay, and of 
very limited means otherwise. He began at once to 
see the awkwardness of his situation. He would give 
his very life to save his child, but that would not ac- 
complish it. The brigands would have nothing short 
of the sum demanded— argument was of no avail. 

Let those who think it so easy to bring the law to 
bear upon such a case, and to recover a lost one 
under such circumstances, recall the facts in the 


38 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


abduction of the Ross child, which took place even 
in the very streets of a populous American city, and 
they will realize how difficult it is for justice, at 
times, to thwart intelligent and organized villainy. 

Colonel Bray commenced immediately to look 
about him on his return to Naples. He exerted him- 
self to his utmost, but he found that the prospect 
was not encouraging. It was next to impossible for 
him to raise the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars 
for the ransom. People sympathized freely with the 
situation of the father, but when it came to putting 
one’s hand into one’s pocket, oh! that was quite 
another thing. People shook their heads. 

If he had been at home in England it might have 
been an easier matter to bring about. Where he was 
known and respected he might be trusted with a 
loan, especially for such a peculiar and imperative 
object. He soon saw that here in Italy he could do 
nothing, or at least not of sufficient amount to be of 
any real service. 

In this condition of affairs he turned for advice to 
his young American friend, Walter Hammond. He 
could only offer the anxious father one thousand 
dollars, that being the extent of the letter of credit 
which he held for personal expenses during his ab- 
sence from home. 

He had a long and sympathizing conversation 
with the colonel. He was himself very grave in this 
emergency, for he had that day received a cable 
dispatch summoning him to America, and bidding 
him to start on the very hour that the vessel should 
sail, to freight which he had been sent to Naples. 

“Read this. Colonel Bray,” he said, showing him 
the telegram. “I would remain and try to assist 
you if it were not for this peremptory recall.” 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


39 


“You are needed, or they would not have tele- 
graphed you in such words,’’ he said. 

“It must be so,” said Walter, “but I cannot say 
how much I should like to serve you.” 

“Thank you,” said the half -discouraged father. 
“You must obey your orders.” 



“You say that no violence was offered to Miss 
Bray?” asked Walter. 

“No, she was simply hurried into the Sedan chair, 
and borne away with all speed.” 

“The scoundrels,” said Walter to himself, as he 
walked excitedly up and down the room. 

“You spoke of a paper?” 


40 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


“Yes, here it is,’’ replied the colonel. 

“A printed form?” 

“Yes.” 

“This is systematizing villainy with a vengeance,” 
said young Hammond as he read the elaborate and 
carefully prepared document. 

Here the amount of ransom, the mode of final pay- 
ment, the time allowed to collect the sum, and 
various other conditions were carefully detailed. It 
was evident that consummate skill and care, doubt- 
less the result of long experience, had been taken to 
so hedge the brigands about, that nothing short of 
compliance with the demand could possibly be con- 
templated by the interested parties. 

“What do you propose to do, my dear sir?” asked 
young Hammond of the colonel. 

“Pay the ransom.” 

“Of course.” 

“That paper names six weeks as the longest period 
of delay recognized by the brigands, which means 
that after that period, the ransom not being paid, 
Marion’s dishonor and death may follow.” 

“Horrible!” said Walter, nearly biting his lips 
through in the bitterness of his feelings. 

“I will start, I think, for England immediately,” 
said the colonel, “where, of course, in time, I hope to 
be able to get the necessary funds.” 

“It seems to be the only thing for you to do,” said 
young Hammond. 

“I am told that these outlaws religiously keep 
their promises, so we know what to depend upon,” 
continued the father. 

“Thank Heaven, she is safe then for the present,” 
was the hearty reply. 

“When do you leave?” asked the colonel. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


il 


“By steamer to Marseilles this evening.” 

“I should have been glad of your company as far 
as England.” 

“I must improve the quickest route, and travel 
night and day to Havre,” said Walter. “May I 
transfer this bill of credit to your name?” 

“I cannot consent even to the loan of such a sum 
from one whom I scarcely know at all, and yet to 
whom I owe so much of heartfelt gratitude.” 

“Take it, sir,” urged young Hammond. “I have 
quite sufficient ready means for present use.” 

“In such an emergency ” 

“You will take the loan. Very good,” said Wal- 
ter as he indorsed the bill over to the colonel. 

“A thousand thanks,” said the Englishman, with 
a trembling voice.'’ 

“ Good-by, colonel, and may every success await 
your endeavors.” 

The two men shook hands and parted, the elder 
with a dejected look, the younger with a hopeful ex- 
pression, and the elasticity of youth in every move- 
ment. After Walter had withdrawn from his pres- 
ence the old officer leaned back in his chair and 
mused to himself thoughtfully. He seemed to have 
lost support by this separation, though he could not 
exactly say how. Sympathy is a growing neces- 
sity with increase of years, and that of the young 
always carries with it a sense of genuineness and 
strength. 

“He is very generous to leave me his money,” said 
the father to himself, “but when I was of his age, if 
I had been as intimate as he has been with Marion, 
I could not have dismissed the matter of her present 
danger so easily as he has done. Why, had a lady 
of my acquaintance been thus unfortunate, nothing 


42 


ME^ZONI THE BRIGAND. 


could have separated me from her interests until I 
saw her safe ap^ain. 

“Yet, young Hammond is every inch a man — that 
he has more than proven to us already by his gal- 
lant deed at Capri, when he saved dear Marion’s life 
at the risk of his own. 

“Well, well, I will not reflect upon him. Those 
who have summoned him home to America have a 
right to his time, and he is bound to obey them ; but 
still I am a little disappointed to see him depart at 
such a time.” 

The fact was, that Colonel Bray had seen so many 
fine qualities in the young Amercian, and had also 
observed so plainly that Marion admired him — al- 
most at first sight — that he had secretly indulged in 
a little castle-building in his active imagination, 
wherein he had united, in his anticipations, the lives 
of these two together. 

Perhaps the romantic character of the introduc- 
tion had produced quite as strong an effect upon the 
old soldier as it had done upon the minds of the par- 
ties themselves. Having been a brave and gallant 
soldier himself, he worshiped these qualities in 
others, and in young Hammond he had found a sort 
of beau ideal of his imagination. 

The acuteness of the colonel’s situation at the 
present moment no doubt made him more selfish 
than he would otherwise have been, and therefore 
his disappointment was but natural. 

This he would not have acknowledged save to 
himself, for he was a proud old man at heart. 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


43 


CHAPTER V. 

A STAND UP FIGHT. 

Marion Bray, on being separated from her father, 
found herself carried rapidly up into the hills, by 
paths, of which she could only now and then catch a 
glimpse by means of the dim starlight. 

For more than five hours the sturdy mountaineers 
who bore the Sedan chair toiled on, stopping occa- 
sionally, but only for a moment, to change positions 
at the supporting-poles. The two horsemen left the 
party at a point which seemed to be a regular halt- 
ing place, and beyond which it would have been im- 
possible for the horses to proceed on account of the 
rough character of the path. 

He who had seemed to be the leader of these men 
had once come to the small window in the Sedan 
chair, and had repeated the same assurances to 
Marion herself which he had given to her father, so 
that the brave English girl had resolved to make the 
best of her situation, and await her father’s efforts 
in her behalf. 

At last the door of the Sedan chair was opened, 
and Marion found herself at the entrance of a sort of 
half-natural, and half-artificially constructed cave, 
or dwelling, within the side of the mountain, and 
far up toward its very summit. Here she was shown 
into a division, isolated from the domestic depart- 
ments, and where a middle-aged woman of the hum- 
bler class attended her. 

The cave was quite spacious, and divided into a 


44 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


general room for the gang, a kitchen, and three or 
four smaller apartments for various uses. It was 
into one of these last that Marion had been con- 
ducted, and where she found rude accommodations 
for sleeping. The woman had evidently been in- 
structed as to her duties toward the new prisoner, 
and performed cheerfully all that she was asked to 
do, in accordance with those instructions. 

“Is this your home?’’ Marion asked the woman in 
Italian. 

“Yes.” 

“How long have you been here?” 

“For years.” 

“Have you a husband?” 

“Yes; we are steward and stewardess here.” 

“Who is the captain?” 

“Mezzoni.” 

“Does he live here also?” 

The woman shook her head. 

To the many questions put to her by Marion she 
would give some casual answer, but generally she 
would reply by a shake of the head, especially to 
any question in any way relating to the band or its 
leader. It was already the third day since her ab- 
duction, and Marion had just received a letter from 
her father, sent through the secret channel desig- 
nated by the robbers. She was not surprised to find 
that it had been opened and read before she re- 
ceived it. 

“My Dearest Child: Under the peculiar circum- 
stances of the case, I cannot write to you as I wish 
to do, but still seize upon the opportunity designated 
by your captors to send you a few lines. I feel con- 
fidence in the assurance of the leader that no per- 
sonal harm shall come to you, and that the time 
designated, viz., six weeks, will be allowed me to ob- 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


45 


tain the funds required for the ransom. Be of good 
cheer, my dear girl, and all will yet be well. 

“Young Hammond, who has been called to Amer- 
ica by a cable telegram, has generously insisted 
upon my accepting his entire letter of credit toward 
your ransom, in the sum of two hundred pounds 
sterling. I think he was sorry to be compelled to 
leave us at so critical a moment and, indeed, he de- 
clared, that but for the summary demand from his 
father, he should remain to offer such aid as he 
could command under this trying exigency. 

“I would send you some personal necessities in the 
way of clothing, but this is not permitted, my dear 
Marion, and I can only urge you to bear up courage- 
ously under this temporary trial. I am about to 
start for England, and shall dispatch the business of 
collecting the sum required as soon as it can possibly 
be done. 

“God bless and protect you, my dear daughter. 

‘ ‘Affectionately, Manlius Bray. ’ ’ 

While she was perusing this welcome letter there 
was quite a commotion heard at the mouth of the 
cave, indicating a new arrival, and of course so un- 
usual a circumstance attracted her notice. The con- 
finement to which she was subjected did not permit 
her to see out on the plateau in front of the cave, 
though the door of her apartment opened very close 
to the main and only entrance. 

The woman coming in at that moment to perform 
some slight domestic service, Marion asked her the 
cause of the commotion, but she only got in response 
the customary shake of the head. This had grown 
to be very aggravating to the prisoner, but she could 
not start the woman’s tongue by any device. One 
day she had taken a little golden brooch from her 
under linen, and tried to bribe the woman to answer 
some questions she had put to her, but though the 
servant’s eyes glistened with desire for the pretty 


46 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


article, she did not speak. So Marion finally gave it 
to her out of pure good will. 

The woman, who had been faithful to her trust, 
realized the motive, and taking Marion’s hand 
kissed it. 

The noise which had attracted the prisoner’s no- 
tice was caused by the bringing in, by the outgoing 
guard, of a stranger, who was considered to be a sus- 
picious character, and too near the robbers’ strong- 
hold to allow him to pass unchallenged. He was a 
sorry object to behold, however, covered with dirt, 
and his clothing barely holding together sufficiently 
to cover his person. He might even in Naples have 
passed for the prince of beggars. 

The straggler’s story was soon told. He had es- 
caped from an English man-of-war lying off the 
coast, and being pursued by a boat’s crew had 
strayed inland to escape from being arrested and re- 
turned. An English frigate had been off the coast 
lately, the man’s appearance was nautical, and he 
had evidently told quite a straight story. 

“What can we do with you?” asked he who 
seemed to be at present in command at the cave. 

“Give me food. I am starving!” 

“Give him what he desires,” said the officer to his 
men. 

Coarse and substantial food was placed before the 
tottering man. He must have been on the very 
verge of starvation, judging by the ravenous man- 
ner in which he swallowed the nutriment he re- 
ceived from the brigands. As he ate and drank — 
for they had given him a bottle of country wine — he 
gradually seemed to straighten up, and to exhibit 
new strength and fresh life, to look about him with 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


47 


a bright, clear eye, and gradually to become a man 
once more. 

“A few more hours of hunger,” said he at last to 
those about him, “and I would have beaten my 
brains out against the rocks to end the misery.” 

“Very good, but what shall we do with you? Those 
who have the good or ill fortune to find their way 
hither, rarely return to the valley,” said the leader. 

“I don’t want to return,” said the man with some 
anxiety of expression. “They’d arrest me, and I 
should be sent back to the ship.” 

• “That’s true. The English Consul is a sharp fel- 
low, and looks after you deserters .” 

“Haven’t you got a gang here?” asked the sailor, 
looking around him. 

“Yes.” 

“Smugglers?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“No matter. Let me ioin you?” 

“Ha, ha! Well, that’s bold,” said the leader. 
“What use could you be to us?” 

“I’m strong, and not easily frightened. I’m a good 
hand at shooting-irons.” 

“Fair qualities,” was the answer; “but we’ve got 
them already.” 

“Have you a man who can stand up before me 
without a weapon?” said the sailor, rolling back his 
sleeves, or what was once a sleeve, and showing his 
muscles. 

“Oh, yes.” 

“I doubt it,” said the straggler. 

“Here, Vecchio, come out here,” said the robber 
to some one inside the cave. “Here’s an English 
sailor who is suffering for a flogging. Will you try 
him?” 


48 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


‘‘Here I am,” was the answer. 

And a large, shaggy Italian, who answered, came 
out of the cave with a pipe in his mouth. He must 
have been over six feet in height and powerfully 
built. He was an ugly customer at a pinch, any one 
might have seen, and the straggler eyed him cu- 
riously as he made his appearance at the summons. 
His comrades told him briefly that they had picked 
up a runaway sailor from an English ship, who had 
been boasting, since he had got his stomach full, 
that he could whip anybody, big or small. 

“Hold fast there,” said the new-comer; “I didn’t 
boast like that, but I don’t think you have one 
among you who can whip me single-handed, with- 
out anything but his flsts.” 

At these remarks the man they had called Yecchio 
regarded the stranger with a look of humorous con- 
tempt, and merely said : 

“I could pick you to pieces like a chicken.” 

“Give me a night’s rest, and as good a breakfast 
as I have had dinner, and we will see which is the 
best man,” said the sailor. 

“That is fair,” said a half-dozen at once. 

“Agreed,” said Vecchio, who rarely found any one 
who was willing to stand up before him and be 
beaten. He was evidently the champion of the gang. 

“If I whip him you will let me join you?” asked 
the sailor of the leader. 

“Yes, if you can do it. We can’t have too many 
brave fellows like Vecchio.” 

“After breakfast to-morrow, then. How where 
may I sleep? I am as tired as I was hungry an hour 
ago.” 

A comfortable straw bed was assigned to him, and 
he was left to himself, giving indications in a few 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


49 


moments of being in a sound sleep. Seamen pick up 
a smattering of many languages, and especially of 
the Italian, so that it was difficult to say whether 
the stranger was English, or what is familiarly 
termed at sea a Levanter, meaning one born any- 
where upon the southern coast of Europe but who 
had been long in the Mediterranean trade. The 
sailor slept soundly until nearly broad daylight the 
next morning— about eleven consecutive hours. He 
must have been wandering a long time to get so 
worn out physically. 

He had gone to the neighboring spring, and had 
removed at least a portion of the dirt from his face, 
hands, and arms, and looked all the better for the 
washing, but it seemed very plain that cleanliness 
was not a prominent virtue with the half -clad strag- 
gler. 

He joined at their invitation the score of men who 
sat down to their coarse breakfast, eating heartily, 
and swallowing his allowance of country wine. Vec- 
chio sat by his side during the meal, and jested with 
him as to the whipping he would get after breakfast. 

“All right. I’m ready,” said the sailor. 

“Say your prayers first,” added Vecchio. 

“And make your will,” said another. 

“And get measured for your coffin,” said a third. 

“He laughs who wins,” said the sailor. 

“Well said,” added the leader. 

“A ring, a ring,” was the cry. 

The banditti then formed a ring about the two 
men, who, stripped to the waist, prepared to do bat- 
tle. At the word they advanced to meet each other, 
the Italian carelessly and boldly, the sailor much 
more watchful and careful. The stranger was not 
so tall, nor so heavy as his antagonist — indeed, he 


50 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


was a smaller man altogether, hut yet firm and ex- 
ceedingly well-built, showing excellent muscle, and 
where the body had not been exposed to the action 
of the elements, a fair and white skin. 

It would have seemed that the man called Vecchio 
must win by mere force of superior weight and 
strength. As we have said, he approached care- 
lessly and struck out at the sailor as though he 
would crush him with a single blow. But the Ital- 
ian found his fist warded off without exertion, and 
he received in return a blow upon his nose — which 
was a very prominent one — that covered his whole 
front with blood. This was the first “round, as 
they called the encounter, and both men retired foi 
a moment to opposite sides of the ring, while Yec- 
chio’s comrades wiped the blood from his face and 
chest. 

“First blood for the Levanter,’’ cried several. 

Vecchio did not like this exclamation, and at the 
word came up to meet his antagonist with consider- 
able anger visible in his countenance. This time he 
rushed at the sailor as though he had been a bull, in- 
tending to transfix his adversary with his horns, at 
the same time striking at his face. The stranger 
stepped lightly on one side and gave the big Italian 
a blow on the side of the head that turned him half 
round, and then threw him fiat upon the ground. 

“First knock down for the Levanter !” they ex- 
claimed. 

Again the men retired to opposite corners for a 
moment, while Vecchio began to open his eyes in 
amazement to see one so much smaller than himself, 
and who could not possibly be so strong as he was, 
yet absolutely getting the better of him. His com- 
rades, who were equally surprised, commenced to 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


51 


banter him on the prospect of getting whipped, and 
the big Italian fairly foamed at the mouth with 
anger and indignation. He determined to force the 
fighting, and conquer by his strength brought col- 
lectively to bear. He therefore commenced, as they 
again came together, to pour a shower of blows at 
his antagonist with great rapidity. 

The fight looked very much in earnest now. 

To the amazement of all, and more especially of 
the big fighter himself, these blows were parried 
with perfect ease by the stranger, who did it with a 
coolness impossible to describe, his antagonist being 
by far the most exhausted by this system of attack. 
The Italian, now half uncovering his face by drop- 
ping for an instant his left arm, received at the mo- 
ment he did so a blow on the mouth, which knocked 
in two of his front teeth and cut a long gash in his 
upper lip. 

This closed the round, and the two men again re- 
tired for a few moments. 

‘‘Hurrah for the Levanter!’’ was the cry. 

There was a little malicious satisfaction in these 
cries on the part of the gang, for there was hardly a 
man among them over whom Vecchio had not in 
some way domineered, his great strength prevent- 
ing retaliation on their part. To see him, therefore, 
find his match, and even more in one smaller than 
himself, was a source of secret satisfaction to the 
majority. 

The big Italian now lost his temper entirely, as 
well as all discretion. He came to the center of the 
ring this time full of rage, and the stranger saw 
that he must look out for himself. The Italian 
rained blows at him so hard and fast that it re- 
quired all of his agility to defend himself. 


52 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


“Go it Yecchio.’’ 

“Go it, Levanter.’’ 

These were the cries that now saluted the men, 
and the excitement grew stronger every moment. 

The sailor was evidently master of the art of box- 
ing, for the stout and valiant Vecchio had not yet 
been able to give him a blow upon his body any- 
where, except the arms, which were used to parry 
with. On these black and blue spots had begun to 
appear, showing that the flesh of the sailor was not 
hardened to a fighting condition. 

“Go it, Vecchio!” “Go it, Levanter!” were again 
the cries ; but the fact was the Italian was far too 
much in earnest, and had lost his reason in the ex- 
cess of his anger, while the sailor was actually as 
cool as though engaged at a game of ten-pins. 

But such a flght could not be prolonged ; it was 
time to bring it to a close, and watching his chance, 
the sailor now aimed a blow just back of Vecchio’s 
ear, with a sort of swinging stroke, which instantly 
knocked the man as senseless as though he had been 
struck with a crowbar, and he lay upon the ground 
like one dead. 

“Vecchio’s down!” 

“Vecchio’s down!” 

This was the cry that was heard on all sides ; but 
when they saw that he did not rise, a more serious 
aspect took possession of their countenances, and 
all rushed to the spot where the big latlian was lying. 

“You have killed him!” exclaimed one. 

“He don’t breathe!” said another. 

“Poor Vecchio!” said a third. 

In the meantime the stranger put his ear to the 
man’s heart and said : 

“He’ll come round presently.” 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


53 


But it had been a dangerous “hit” given in a bad 
place, undoubtedly, because the Levanter, as they 
called him, saw that the man’s strength would 
finally break down his guards, and that he must in 
self-defense resort to a blow which is only given in 
desperation by fighting men. The sailor, as we have 
said, had not received one blow upon his body, and 
had thus shown the power of science against 
strength, coolness against headlong and unskilled 
fighting. 

The man Yecchio was carried by his comrades to 
a spring hard by, and his temples bathed and his 
head washed, but he did not come round to actual 
consciousness for several hours, and then he was far 
too exhausted to stand. His frame, large and power- 
ful as it was, had received a tremendous shock by 
the blow from his despised adversary. 

The robbers, with a sort of instinctive admiration 
for physical power and skill, frankly praised the 
stranger, and declared that when the captain came 
he should become one of the band. As this was ex- 
actly what he had requested, all were on the best of 
terms, the men sitting at their pipes and hearing 
the sailor’s personal history and such sea adventures 
and stories as he colored to suit their taste. It was 
a wild scene presented by the open plateau upon 
which the robbers were seated in a picturesque 
group. They were swarthy men, all wearing a sort 
of half -uniform, and with the conventional Italian 
hat and leggins, both decked with parti-colored rib- 
bons. The men were never without their arms, pis- 
tols and dirks, stuck into their broad leather belts, 
held by a heavy steel buckle in the front of the 
waist. All wore scarlet kerchiefs about their necks, 


54 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


and heavy beards, and long hair was the rule among 
them. 

Vecchio presented a sorry sight on the next day, 
but he was man enough to acknowledge himself 
fairly beaten. Still he sat on one side, and seemed 
moody and revengeful over his pipe. His head and 
face were badly swollen, and his mouth was very 
sore. The fact was, the fellow had been terribly 
punished, and his chagrin was equal to his physical 
suffering. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


55 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE JAR OF GOLD. 

Naples, like Genoa, is full of old palaces, formerly 
occupied by wealthy and titled families, who have 
long since passed away, leaving descendants still 
resident in them, but whose fortunes have very 
generally dwindled away. The titles and the pal- 
aces have been easily handed down, but pecuniary 
resources have very naturally proved much more 
ephemeral. 

In the Strada Roma, Naples, also known as the 
Strada Toledo, there are a number of these palatial 
residences, as pretentious as they were a century 
since, though the fortune of the present occupant 
may be, in a pecuniary sense, of the humblest char- 
acter. Among these palaces was that of the Corrello 
family, once known as among the leading spirits of 
the then Kingdom of Naples. 

This family had sustained a high position in Italian 
history — they were loyal, proud, and rich. With the 
death of the representative of the family, half a 
century since, the proverbial wealth of the Correllos 
had also passed away. But there stood the palace 
as of yore, now occupied only by Alberto Corrello, 
the sole living representative of a Imig line of famous 
statesmen and soldiers, men who had served their 
country generation after generation. 

Time was when the ancestors of Alberto Corrello 
were held by the people as little lower than the oc- 
cupants of the throne itself. But, alas ! the nobility 






66 MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 

of character had seemed to fade out from the fam- 
ily representatives as its pecuniary fortune had 
done, and Alberto Corrello to-day, in place of hold- 
ing the position of counselor, scholar, and philoso- 
pher, as his great, great grandfather had done, was 
known better as the famous N^eapolitan gamester 
than for any other individuality. 

He was a man of singular habits, often isolating 
himself for days at a time, and refusing to see even 
his confidential servant. He cared apparently for 
neither women nor wine, and so far as his nature 
was evinced to the outer world, he exhibited but one 
passion, that of the gamester. One other trait Al- 
berto Corrello had shown, that of cold-blooded ven- 
geance, such as is often seen in the duelist. He had 
several times been engaged in these personal en- 
counters, in which he had more than once killed his 
adversary. 

Some people accounted for his solitary tastes and 
frequent retirement from his associates, as resulting 
from the remorse engendered by these events. 

He had no intimates ; and it was said that he was 
too proud to associate thus with the class among 
whom his habits as a gamester so often brought him. 
He had early run through with the limited means 
which he had inherited, and how he managed to 
sustain his large losses as a gambler was often a 
source of surprise to those who knew him. 

There was, however, a well-authenticated story 
extant, and which had been tossed about from 
mouth to mouth among the gossips for years. It 
was to the effect that one of the Corrello family had 
left a sealed jar buried in the basement of the pal- 
ace, and which, with certain conditions, was men- 
tioned in his will. This jar was not to be opened for 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


57 


three generations, the time expiring, according to 
the story, just as Alberto came into possession. 
When it was opened by Alberto it was found to con- 
tain untold wealth in the shape of gold and precious 
stones. 

This story was Aladdin-like to a degree, just suited 
to the taste of the Neapolitan gossips, and so was 
eagerly seized upon and retailed everywhere. 

It was not exactly known who first started this 
story, but it was universally believed, and when on 
one occasion Alberto himself had been appealed to 
as to the truth, or otherwise, of the tale, he said, sig- 
nificantly, that family matters were hardly a fit sub- 
ject for public discussion, yet he seemed for some 
reason to take good care not to deny the truth of the 
story. Indeed, to those who had heard his reply he 
had conveyed the impression that there was a de- 
cided foundation of fact in the report. 

And thus fresh impetus was given to the queer 
story. 

In speaking of Alberto Corrello it came to be a 
frequent thing in Naples, in reference to the story of 
the jar of gold, to say : 

“I wish I had Corrello’s jar of gold.” 

“Now Corrello with his jar of gold might do thus 
and so.” 

“If I had Corrello’s jar I would help you.” 

“Go to Corrello with his jar of gold,” and similar 
applications of the idea. 

It thus became the universal belief that this repre- 
sentative of the old family had in this store of gold 
and precious stones a never-failing source to draw 
upon whenever his purse needed replenishing. That 
jar was quite as inexhaustible as Fortunatus’ purse, 
and far more tangible, as the aggregated wealth 


58 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


was in visible mass. And yet, although Naples is 
full of beggars, and poverty stalks boldly at every 
corner, somehow the poor did not feel moved to beg 
at the well-known door of the Corrello palace, and 
never of its master in person. 

Beggars have certainly an unconscious instinct by 
which they are governed. They rarely solicit of the 
wrong man. They may not always be successful, 
but perhaps they may succeed the next time. 

Alberto Corrello’s air was cold and repulsive, his 
features dark even for an Italian, while his smooth 
and carefully shaven face was classic in its severe 
beauty of outline ; his eyes were large and piercing, 
and his manner self-possessed and assured. 

His manner was that of one who had discounted 
all chances, and who was not to be surprised by 
whatever might occur. Thus, when his game was 
watched at the gambling resorts, no one ever de- 
tected the least expression of elation or depression 
while he was winning or losing, and certainly no 
man played with a more lavish hand than he. 

Alberto Corrello had broken more than one private 
bank in Naples, but he had also lost the gold which 
he had thus won perhaps within the next twenty- 
four hours. There were no tell-tale lines in his face ; 
his hand was equally steady whether in staking 
hundreds or thousands. 

“How cool he is!” said one. 

“Of course.” 

“Why of course?” 

“Has he not that jar to draw from?” 

“Ah, very true.” 

“We should any of us be indifferent as to our 
losses if had unlimited credit at the Banco Nazio- 
nale.” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


59 


‘‘You are right. The jar is his bank.” 

And thus the golden and inexhaustible jar was 
being constantly brought to mind. 

The Church even had considered the matter, and 
finally came to believe a story so frequently re- 
peated, and had made bold to solicit a fraction for 
the use of the religious institutions ; but Alberto dis- 
missed these applications so coolly that they were 
not repeated. 

With such a treasure to draw from,” said one of 
the priests, “one would suppose you could afford to 
give a trifie to the Church.” 

“What treasure?” asked Alberto, sternly. 

“Why, the jar of gold.” 

“Ah, yes; but even that jar has a bottom.” 

“One might doubt it.” 

“How so?” demanded Alberto. 

“Judging from your lavishness at the gaming 
table.” 

“Hence,” said Alberto, pointing to the door. 

“Only the guilty are sensitive to reproach,” said 
the priest. 

“Your sacred garments and calling alone preserve 
you from a thrashing,” was the reply. 

The last representative of the Corrello family was 
no more solicited in behalf of the Church, although 
his ancestors had ever been its firm supporters. His 
glaring inconsistencies were the talk of the gossips ; 
his moods, as variable as the wind, served them as 
ready themes, and both his gains and losses at play 
were magnified beyond all reason by the tongue of 
rumor. 

Once or twice, Beppo, the man-servant who at- 
tended upon Alberto, was importuned relative to 
that jar of gold, but he could give no positive infer- 


60 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


mation. The basement where it was said to be was 
securely locked, being only accessible by an iron 
door, and his master kept the key, permitting no one 
to enter there at any time. 

As to the size of the jar, Beppo knew not exactly 
how he had got the impression, but it was said to 
stand nearly or quite as high as a man’s head, and, 
when first opened was full to the very brim with gold 
and precious stones, dug from some royal depository 
within the ancient walls of Cumae, that once famous 
city, the ruins of which are still visited by travelers, 
about a league from Naples. A city which flourished 
a thousand years before the advent of Christ upon 
the earth. 

This was by no means a very improbable story, as 
immense wealth had been gathered from tombs of 
the ancient Greeks, whose dead were burned and 
their ashes buried in mural urns, together with a 
large share of their earthly riches, in the shape of 
gold and precious stones. Altogether, a mystery 
hung over Alberto Corrello which the Neapolitans 
could not fathom. 

He was handsome enough to attract the eye of 
many a lovely, titled lady, and it was known that 
many such had modestly tried to engage his favors, 
but Alberto seemed to care for none of them. Bely- 
ing the temperament of his countrymen generally, 
he appeared to be of stone rather than of flesh and 
blood. Wine could not warm him, nor woman at- 
tract him ; at least, this was what the tongue of pub- 
lic gossip said, and appearances certainly sustained 
the theory. 

“There goes Alberto Corrello,” said one young fel- 
low to another, as they stood smoking before the 
royal palace. 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


61 


“How stern and cold he looks.’’ 

“He has had enough experience to sour him.” 

“Yes; he has killed three foreigners, as well as 
young Verdi, in duels. Perhaps his conscience 
pricks him.” 

“There were two Frenchmen and an English- 
man, eh?” 

“Yes,” 

“What was the trouble?” 

“Something at the gaming table.” 

“Not women, then?” 

“No; Corrello wouldn’t fight about women; he’s 
too cold-blooded. He doesn’t care for them.” 

“And yet,” said his companion, “I have heard 
that he was once very deeply in love, some dozen 
years ago, and that, with the exception of his want 
of property, he was then considered a very desirable 
and presentable fellow among the other sex. I for- 
get who she was, but folks thought that he was en- 
gaged at that time, until, to the general surprise, the 
parents of the lady broke off the match.” 

“I had never heard of this.” 

“It was so.” 

“How long since?” 

“About twelve years.” 

“He must have outgrown that.” 

“I was one day where the subject was being dis- 
cussed,” continued the narrator, “when one of the 
gentlemen attributed the eccentricity of Alberto 
Corrello to this very fact of his early disappointment 
in love, saying that he gave promise, as a young 
man, of being a worthy scion of his once noble fam- 
ily, but suddenly all was changed, on his breaking 
off from the lady, and from that hour he went to the 
bad rapidly.” 


62 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


“It may be so.’’ 

“I can very well conceive of it, for Corrello is a 
handsome and sensitive fellow. Since those days 
he has become hardened, indeed. Do you remember 
when he fought with young Verdi? That was one of 
the hardest things ever brought against him, I think. 
It was a gambling dispute ; nothing, one would think, 
but what the seconds might easily have settled. But 
no, Corrello insisted upon fighting Verdi, who was 
almost a boy in years, and a noble-hearted fellow. 
They fought with pistols, in the usual fashion, and 
Alberto sent a bullet through the boy’s brains.” 

“I remember that, and how the family mourned 
over their loss. Public feeling ran hard against 
Corrello then, and he absented himself for a consider- 
able time from the city. I can conceive of a man 
going out to fight in resenting a serious insult, but 
for a mere dispute at cards it is unreasonable.” 

“Corrello would go out, they say, if you were to 
drop a pin upon his foot, he is so moody and im- 
perious. Do you know that he has not an intimate 
friend in all Naples, man nor woman? To be sure, 
his style is not exactly calculated to invite friends, 
that is plain, but then we all want some one to lean 
upon occasionally. That’s why I tolerate you, my 
dear boy.” 

The subject of this conversation, as he passed, took 
no heed of any one, or at least he seemed not to do 
so, and yet his keen, active eyes were all about him, 
and he was in fact very observant of even the small- 
est circumstance occurring. 

He was plainly but handsomely dressed, of me- 
dium height and size, with, as we have before said, 
a fresh shaven handsome face, almost womanly in 
its delicacy of outline. He was just such a man as 


MEZZONI THE BKIGANB. 


63 


women would have praised at first sight, for his 
good looks and aristocratic bearing. There was an 
imperiousness and hauteur about him, however, that 
did not invite confidence, as had just been remarked 
by those who were observing him. 

“Wonder if he hasn’t got near the bottom of that 
jar of gold?” suggested one of the former speakers. 

“Do you believe there is any jar?” 

“Well, everybody says so.” 

“He needs a mine.” 

“Some say the jar is inexhaustible.” 

“One would think so from the way he lavishes gold 
at the gaming table,” said the other. “He is declared 
to be the coolest gamester in Europe.” 


64 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


CHAPTER yil. 

THE DETECTIVE. 

In the meantime Colonel Bray had reached home 
and was in active consultation with his friends. 

Even in London, where he was so well known, the 
old officer found it no easy task to raise the heavy 
sum required for his child’s ransom. All to whom 
he applied heard his story respectfully, and offered 
every token of sympathy except the very one which 
alone would meet the actual necessities of the case-^ 
money. 

Some insisted upon making a government affair of 
it, and having a special demand made upon the Ital- 
ian authorities for the restoration of Marion Bray. 
A fleet of men-of-war should at once be sent to 
Naples, etc., etc. Others suggested that the money 
should be raised and paid over, and then that the 
Italian government be made to refund the sum. 
This was a very good idea, and if these advisers 
would but advance the five thousand pounds sterl- 
ing, in the meantime, why this course would answer 
the colonel’s purpose. But somehow these people, 
so very ready and often reasonable with their sug- 
gestions, had not the means or inclination to advance 
the money itself. 

Many persons were for organizing a company of 
resolute men, landing at or near Naples, and march- 
ing in a body to the stronghold of the robbers and 
liberating the English girl. These persons had only 
to be informed that such a course would cost the life 
of the prisoner to see that the business of liberation 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


65 


was not so easily met, except by paying the ransom. 
Indeed, after looking at the case in every possible 
light, this was at last conceded to be the only plan 
to pursue. 

Colonel Bray’s daughter had been permitted to 
send him a letter in reply to the one he wrote to her 
just as he was about to leave Naples, and this had 
brought comforting assurance to the father, so far 
as the immediate safety of his child was concerned. 
The letter ran as follows : 

“Dear Father : — I am permitted to say that I have 
received your kind letter, written just as you were 
about to start for England. I am made as comfort- 
able as possible here under the circumstances, and 
have a very respectful and kind peasant woman to 
wait upon me. I am satisfied that no personal harm 
is intended or will be permitted in my instance, but 
also that the payment of the ransom is the only pos- 
sible means of effecting my release. I hope that you 
will not worry too much about me, but yet I cannot 
say how earnestly I desire to be released from this 
isolation and trying confinement. That Heaven 
may bless and keep you, my dear father, is the con- 
stant prayer of your fond child. Marion.” 

This letter, after it had passed through the hands 
of their chief, the brigands forwarded, and it was 
received, as we have said, by the colonel. He saw 
at once that his child had not been persuaded to 
write by the robbers, and prompted to send such 
words as should harrow up his feelings. He divined ' 
from the missive that the banditti felt quite assured 
in their position, and were content to abide the lapse 
of the time specified to him at the outset. 

The house of Woolf & Co., whose store had been 
robbed so systematically, as described in our second 
chapter, was not disposed to sit down patiently under 
their heavy loss without making a strenuous effort 


66 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


to recover the value of the goods and bring the guilty 
parties to justice. 

They, like Colonel Bray, had been busily at work, 
and had brought to Naples an English detective, who 
was afforded such assistance by the local authorities 
as he required to properly prosecute the needed 
search. They have no detective corps in Italy, but a 
system of police spies, which answers in some de- 
gree the same purpose. The professional detective is 
not, however, recognized in their police organiza- 
tion. The London officer worked at some disadvan- 
tage, as he spoke the language but indifferently, 
though he was afforded all conveniences. 

Up to the present time the real mystery of the 
robbery remained unsolved. 

There had, however, been one discovery made, 
but what bearing it might have eventually in the 
matter, could not be at present divined. It was 
found that whoever had conveyed away the val- 
uables on the night of the robbery, had chanced to 
take, among other articles a small box of white 
powder, an article used for cleaning silverware. 
This had evidently been thrown into a canvas bag 
with other articles, and in such a manner as to spill 
the powder into the bottom of the bag. Here it had 
found a small hole through which it had sifted 
slowly as it was carried along, indicating for some 
three hundred yards the direction in which the rob- 
ber or robbers had gone after leaving the store with 
their booty. 

This powder had singularly preserved its identity 
upon the ground, there having been no rain in the 
meantime, and extended from the rear entrance of 
the store along a back lane, running parallel to the 
Strada Toledo, where it suddenly ceased, as though 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


67 


the position of the bag had there been changed, or 
that the person carrying it had sunk into the ground. 

This was so plain and manifest a “traiP’ that the 
English detective, who was the first one to discover 
this clew, dwelt constantly upon it. This was to be 
followed up again and again, until it should suggest 
the true solution of the problem. 

It was argued from this piece of evidence that it 
was not Mezzoni’s band who committed the burg- 
lary, for had they been the parties they would natu- 
rally have turned, it was thought, in the opposite di- 
rection to escape with their booty. In this instance 
the robbers had evidently gone into the very heart 
of the city with the goods stolen from Woolf & Co. 

This phase being established, as relating to the 
case, new efforts were instituted, and new theories 
suggested, but still there was nothing reliable dis- 
covered as to the thieves. 

One day there appeared at the door of the Corrello 
palace an old and decrepit woman, bent half double 
with age, and to whose summons Beppo responded. 

‘T have lost my parrot,’^ said the old woman, in a 
shivering voice. 

“What is that to me?’’ said Beppo. 

“He has fiown into your back garden,” whimpered 
the woman. 

“There is no garden to this palace.” 

“Then he’s gone into your back yard. I saw him 

fly.’’ 

“There is no parrot there— go your way,” said 
Beppo, trying to shut the door. 

“ I would give gold to get my parrot,” said the old 
woman, in broken Italian, while at the same time 
she held out toward the servant a golden louis. 

Beppo’s eyes sparkled with the natural avarice of 


68 


MEZZONI THE BEIGANH. 


his class, as he saw the gold, and after a moment of 
hesitation, he said : 

“Give me the gold and you may look for your bird. 
But be quick about it — we do not admit people here.” 

The old woman hobbled in and followed Beppo to 
the rear of the palace. 

“You see it’s no use,” he said. 

“He’s lost! he’s lost!” cried the old woman, look- 
ing minutely all about her. The rear yard was nar- 
row, and she kicked about the dirt. 

“What are you turning up the dirt for?” asked the 
servant. “You don’t suppose he’s buried in the 
ground, do you?” 

“Ho, no,” she answered, but still examining every 
crack and corner. “He’s lost! he’s lost!” 

“Well, you have looked long enough,” said Beppo. 
“Come, I don’t want my master to see you.” 

“Doesn’t he like to have people about?” asked the 
old woman, in a whining voice. 

“Ho; he’d kill me just as likely as not if he saw 
you here. Come along, quick. ” 

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Oh, my parrot! I’ve 
lost my dear, dear parrot!” 

Just as the old woman was making her way out, 
to the utter dismay of the servant, Alberto Corrello 
met them face to face, and turning fiercely to Beppo, 
he said : 

“What does this mean?” 

“Well, you see, sir ” 

“Speak out!” 

“The old woman lost her parrot over the rear wall, 
and has been to find it.” 

“Have a care how you admit any one here,” said 
his master, in a tone of voice and with an expression 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


69 


of countenance which the old woman observed set 
Beppo into a tremor. 

The old woman hobbled away, and finally disap- 
peared down the Strada St. Carlo, just opposite the 
famous theater of that name. Here she entered a 
house in which lodging-rooms were let, and soon 
after, if any person had been watching that door, 
they might have seen issue from thence the person 
of the English detective, who at once made his way 
to the shop of Woolf & Co., where he was seen to 
enter into close conversation with the head of the 
establishment. 

“Are you at leisure?’’ 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I want to ask you a few questions.” 

“Very good.” 

“Who is Alberto Corrello?” asked the detective. 

“He is of a noble but decayed family.” 

“Rich?” 

“Hardly that.” 

“How does he live?” 

“How?” 

“I mean what supports him.” 

“Well, it would be hard to say.” 

“Good habits?” 

“On the contrary, very bad.” 

“Gambles, I suppose?” 

“That’s the trouble.” 

“Any stories about him?” 

“Yes, there is one rather queer story about him as 
to his having a jar of gold in his basement, left by 
one of his ancestors. Out of this jar he is said to re- 
plenish his purse when it runs low,” said the Jew, 
with a smile of incredulity. 


70 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


“Did the gentleman start this story himself?’’ 
asked the detective. 

“I cannot say.” 

This closed the detective’s conversation relative 
to Alberto Corrello, and he turned and was just 
about to go out of the shop when the proprietor 
came to him and asked, in a low voice : 

“Why these questions about Corrello?” 

“Merely for information.” 

“Do you suspect anybody?” 

“I suspect everybody; that’s my business,” re- 
plied the officer, as he walked out on the broad 
square fronting the royal palace, known as the Plaza 
del Plebiscite. Here, sitting on one of the public 
benches, he seemed to lose himself in a brown study. 
So anxious was Colonel Bray to be near his child 
that, after raising about one-half of the necessary 
sum for her ransom, he left with some trusty friends 
to make up the balance, with directions for them 
to forward it as soon as possible to him at Naples. It 
seemed to be some consolation to the father to know 
that he was so many miles nearer to Marion, though 
he could not see her. 

Colonel Bray’s case was now well known. In- 
deed, if he had particularly desired to keep his 
daughter’s abduction secret he would have found it 
impossible to do so. We know that he was afraid 
to solicit the services of the government, as one of 
the conditions of Marion’s safety was that her 
father should make no attempt to forcibly recover 
his child, and he had so far kept good faith with the 
brigands. The English detective called upon the 
colonel, after his arrival, and asked for a descrip- 
tion of the brigand chief. The colonel could only 
describe him as a very dark man, small-featured. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


71 


heavy beard, and not large in body, but with a saber 
wound as it seemed to him under the left eye. 

“Ah, yes; I have heard of that mark before,’’ said 
the officer. “Rather peculiar and easily recognized. 
Do vou pay the ransom, colonel?” 

“Of course.” 



“ AH, YES; I HAVE HEARD OF THAT MARK BEFORE.” 

“You are right,” said the officer; “but afterward — 
vengeance !” 

“Hush!” said the colonel. “Just let me get my 
child, and then we will see what can be done in be- 
half of justice.” 


72 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A woman’s honor. 

Within twenty- four hours of the circumstance de- 
tailed in the last chapter, Beppo, the man-servant of 
Alberto Corrello, was summoned to the entrance of 
his master’s palace by a very different person from 
the old woman with the parrot story, and whose real 
character was unsuspected. 

This time it was a lady, closely vailed, yet show- 
ing enough of her face to exhibit its remarkable 
beauty, who demanded, in decided, but courteous 
terms, entrance to his master’s apartment. 

“But, madam, I have no right to admit any one, 
and my master is not at home,” said the servant, 
dreading to make another mistake. 

“I know that he is absent. He will soon be in 
again. I meet him by appointment.” 

“He has left no instructions,” said Beppo, much 
puzzled as to what he should do. 

“It is all right,” responded the lady, crowding 
past the servant, and quietly directing him to close 
the door behind her. 

“You may cost me my place,” said Beppo. 

“If I do,” she answered, “you shall have a better 
one,” at the same time placing a gold piece in his 
hand. 

There seemed nothing to be done on the part of 
the servant but to show the stranger to his master’s 
sitting-room, where she seated herself and said she 
would await Alberto’s return. She had thrown back 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


73 


her vail as she became seated, displaying a face of 
youth and beauty with an eager and nervous expres- 
sion, which lighted up her deep black eyes and 
heightened the rich color of her complexion. 

To the servant’s announcement that a lady awaited 
him in his sitting-room, his master replied sternly, 
upbraiding him for admitting any one, saying : 

‘‘This is the second time within twenty-four hours 
that you have disobeyed my orders. Beware of the 
third and last time!” 

Then turning away from the trembling Beppo, he 
sought his own apartment. He could not imagine 
what lady should call on him. 

As he entered the room the lady turned her beauti- 
ful face upon him, covered with blushes. The 
astonishment of Alberto Corrello was plainly de- 
picted upon his face — indeed, for a moment, he 
could not speak for the surprise which mastered 
him. At last he said, almost in a whisper, as he 
leaned upon a chair for support : 

“Signora Amadeo, what does this mean?” 

“Alberto!” she sighed, with downcast eyes and 
burning cheeks. 

“Is it possible that you have run such a risk as 
this?” 

“I would dare anything, Alberto, for you,” she>. 
said, without lifting her eyes to his face. 

“You cannot have been observed— your absence 
from home is not yet noticed. Hasten, I pray you, 
hasten away.” 

“Do you dismiss me thus, Alberto, you for whom 
I have risked everything in order to obtain this inter- 
view.” 

“Signora, think of the count, of your honor. This 
is madness.” 


74 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


^‘Alberto, I love you!’’ 

“Hush! No more,” he said, nervously. “You 
must depart instantly.” 

“It is too late to turn back now, after such a step 
as I have taken.” 

“No one but my servant has seen you, and he does 
not know your face. Besides,” he added, “I control 
the fellow’s tongue.” 

“Are you made of stone, Alberto Corrello? Have 
you forgotten those early vows?” she asked, gazing 
into his face with her luminous eyes. 

“Nay, nay, signora, speak not of the past. Let us 
lose no time. Hasten away, I beg of you. Your 
secret is safe with me.” 

“All then is in vain,” she sighed, covering her 
face with her vail. 

He took her arm and hurried her down the broad 
marble stairs to the entrance, and bade her not pause 
for one instant at the front, but to go with the speed 
of the wind to her own door, which was near at hand. 

Strange fatality ! 

Just as Alberto opened the door for the signora to 
depart, he saw distinctly her husband, the Count 
Amadeo, passing, who regarded him with keen 
scrutiny, though evidently at the moment not recog- 
nizing that the woman just making her exit from 
the Corrello palace was his own wife ! 

To the American reader such an intrigue would 
seem to be almost impossible, but it is the normal 
condition among a certain class of fashionable 
French and Italian men and women. The sin of such 
unfaithfulness is not with them in its commission, 
but in its discovery. The Signora Amadeo, young, 
handsome, romantic, was married by her parents to 
the rich old count whose name she bore, but for 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


75 


whom she cared not the least in the way of affection. 
It was useless to disguise the fact. No real domestic 
tie bound them to each other. 

She had been fascinated by the handsome face 
and person of Alberto Corrello. The stories of his 
duels, and his extravagance at play, also, to her ro- 
mantic nature, proved a singular attraction. She 
remembered, too, that they had been children to- 
gether, and had whispered love tales into each 
other’s ears ; and she remembered also, that but for 
his presumed poverty in those days he might have 
been her husband. All these thoughts had been 
brooded upon until in one mad moment she had 
adopted a reckless plan to surprise him within his 
own palace, as we have described. 

We will not attempt to analyze the reason of Al- 
berto’s coolness toward the Signora Amadeo. So 
daring a man was not deferred from an intimacy by 
any such drawback as fear of personal harm, and 
we may suppose that he was in some degree gov- 
erned by a lingering sense of honor. Possibly there 
came before his mind’s eye, also, the recollection of 
that past to which she had referred. 

As we shall have occasion to see before the close 
of the present chapter, this notorious gambler, this 
degenerate scion of a once noble house, this reckless 
duelist, was not entirely selfish and without a sense 
of honor left. He was, let his accumulated sins be 
what they might, still capable of truly chivalrous 
conduct. Thus, whatever baseness may control the 
human instincts at times, there will still remain upon 
the most abandoned soul the half -effaced image of 
its Maker. 

The Count Amadeo thought that he discovered 
something very familiar to him in the form and 


76 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


movement of the lady whom he had just seen quit- 
ting the Corrello palace. It was very odd. He 
therefore kept his eye upon the lady until, to his 
profound amazement, he saw her, after hastening 
with all possible speed, finally enter his own doors. 

Could it be his wife whom he had thus detected 
stealing from the gates of that notorious gambler? 
Was he in his right senses? he asked himself. He 
had never suspected his wife of disloyalty since, ten 
years and more ago, he had led her, a mere girl, to 
the sacred marriage altar. It is true that this mar- 
riage, like nine-tenths of those which take place 
among his class of society, had been one of mutual 
convenience between her parents and himself, the 
lady^s predilections being quite a secondary con- 
sideration in the affair. 

She had never pretended to love the count. In- 
deed, she had scarcely seen him twice when she 
was informed by her mother of the proposed al- 
liance. She was a woman, and therefore was to be 
married ; she belonged to a titled family, and there- 
fore must marry in her own rank ; the family were 
poor, therefore she must make a rich connection. 

This was the whole story. 

Count Amadeo rushed after his wife, in a frame 
of mind which rendered him for the moment quite 
frantic with rage. He was too much a man of the 
world, however, to desire any publicity as to his do- ; 
mestic relations. He did not forget, on this trying 
occasion, that he was comparatively an old man, 
and that his wife was young enough to be his daugh- 
ter, a feature which the gossips were always sure to 
seize upon. 

He even paused, excited as he was, to anticipate 
the scandal which any indiscretion on his part would 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


77 


be sure to arouse among the busy public, the keenest 
of which seemed to be, with the count, the possible 
and usual remark : 

“Served him right for marrying a young girl!” 

All these thoughts ran in rapid succession through 
his mind, and led him to enter his house quietly, as 
though nothing unusual had occurred. He went, 
however, immediately to his wife’s apartment, and 
broached the subject at once. He could not have 
remained silent a moment. 

“Signora.” 

“Well, count.” 

“I saw you but a moment since,” he began, “com- 
ing from the door of the Corrello Palace.” 

“Very possibly,” she replied, after a moment’s 
pause, “as I have just come from there.” 

“You own it unblushingly?” 

“I do,” she answered, boldly; “for the very 
reason that I have done nothing to blush for.” 

“Do you dare to assert this?” 

‘ ‘ U nhesitatingly . ’ ’ 

“Why, signora, I saw that Alberto Corrello let you 
out of the door himself.” 

“True, he would protect me from scandal, and so 
did not call a servant.” 

“That was very considerate on his part, certainly,” 
sneered the husband. 

“I thought so,” said the countess, as she quietly 
drew off her vail and mantle. 

The count retired for a moment to his private cabi- 
net, and almost instantly returned, locking the door 
as he did so ; and at the same time taking a pistol 
from his pocket and cocking it, he said : 

“Signora, if you do not speak the truth I will kill 
you!” 


78 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


As he spoke he stepped immediately before her. 
She was a timid woman, and at once was almost 
frightened out of her senses. What could she do? 
What excuse offer for her shameful conduct? She 
had never seen her husband look so fierce and so 
much in earnest before. His angry words and ex- 
pression drove all reason out of her mind. She 
would do anything to purchase her safety for the 
moment. 

“Will you tell me the truth?” 

“I will, I will,” she almost screamed, and fell upon 
her knees. 

“Are you guilty with that man” 

“As I hope for heaven, no.” 

“Why were you there then?” 

“He enticed me to come, but ” she stammered, 

and could hardly finish the lie. 

“But you did not yield to his allurements. Is that 
what you would say?” 

“It is,” she replied; “and in the name of Heaven 
I swear there is no guilt between us.” 

“Enough,” said the count, replacing the pistol in 
his pocket. “I believe you.” 

“And forgive me?” 

“For the first step, yes.” 

“It shall be the last,” she said, earnestly, rising 
from her humble position. 

“I will trust so,” said the count, deliberately. 
“But as for that smooth-faced gamester, that duel- 
ist, he shall give an account of himself, and be met 
with the weapon he is so fond of using?” 

“You would not fight him?” 

“We shall see.” 

The trembling wife, who had lied so shamefully to 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


79 


screen herself from the violence and just anger of 
her husband, was left alone at last. 

Now stepped in the inevitable Nemesis, for crime, 
wrong, and falsehood are sure to entail misery, 
whether openly denounced or only acknowledged in 
secret. 

The Signora Amaedo despised herself for charging 



that man with the endeavor to ruin her, or intimat- 
ing that by some subterfuge he had induced her to 
visit his palace. The last words of her enraged hus- 
band still rung in her ears. She knew only too well 
that a duel must follow. In the wickedness of her 
heart she even wondered if in case they should fight, 


80 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


the count would not be the most likely to fall, and 
Alberto be spared to her ! 

But if Alberto were to fall, alas ! he whom she 
now loved, would she not be his murderess? She 
felt that already she was being fearfully punished 
for her wickedness. She paced restlessly up and 
down in the narrow apartment, like a caged wild 
animal, pausing now and then to wring her hands in 
nervous agony of mind. 

In a splendidly lighted and spacious apartment 
on the Strada di Chiaja, the same night that the 
scene just described took place, Alberto Corrello 
might have been seen at the gaming table, staking 
his gold with all his accustomed recklessness, win- 
ning and losing with apparently the same heedless- 
ness. 

It was a gay and profligate scene, of which he 
was the center, for none played so continuously and 
heavily as he. Alberto was watched by many cu- 
rious eyes, but he regarded them not at all, his sole 
attention being absorbed by the game before him. 
He would pass hours thus, night after night ; it 
seemed to be his only recreation. 

When the game was at its height, the Count 
•Amedeo entered the brilliant hall, and walked at 
once to the side nearest to Alberto Corrello. With- 
out the least ceremony he touched him upon the 
shoulder with his hand, and said : 

‘‘A word yith you in private.” 

“In a moment,” was the reply. • 

Alberto staked another sum in gold, lost it, and 
then turned and said, coolly : 

“I am at your service.” 

“This way,” said the count. 

The two men sought a private room of the estab- 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


81 


lishment, and after the door had been closed, the 
count said: 

“I saw my wife leaving you this evening.’’ 

“Well?” 

“Hurrying secretly from your palace.” 

“Well?” 

“Ay, but it is not well. What did the Signora 
Amadeo want at your palace?” 

“You had better ask the lady.” 

“I have done so.” 

“What did she say?” 

“She said that you enticed her there to ruin her, 
but that she finally succeeded in leaving your palace 
without being dishonored.” 

As the count said these words he struggled to keep 
calm, compressing his fingers so fiercely as to nearly 
drive the nails through the fiesh. 

“Did the Signora Amadeo say that?” asked the 
other, firmly, but quietly, while he regarded the 
count with his keenest look. 

“She did.” 

“Of course the lady could speak naught but the 
truth,” said Alberto, bitterly, though he would not 
betray the falsehood of the woman who had cast her 
honor at his feet. 

“Can you confirm her oath of innocence?” 

“In any way you may suggest,,” responded Al- 
berto, firmly. “The Signora Amadeo is as innocent 
as an angel, so far as I am concerned.” 

“I believe both my wife and you speak truly,” 
said the count. “Now, Alberto Corrello, we must 
meet and settle this matter at once.” 

“You have the right to demand this, when and 
where you please.” 


82 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


“Let it be to-morrow then, at noon, behind the 
Park of Capodimonte.” 

“It is well. 

The two men then separated, after each had 
agreed to appoint seconds as their representatives, 
to arrange the usual details in such encounters. 

The count knew very well that Albert Corrello 
was a famous shot, and therefore that he ran a 
great risk of losing his life. However, he could not 
hesitate to take this course under the circumstances 
of the case. In connection with the code of honor 
which existed among his class, and under which he 
had lived from his birth, he would be counted a very 
poltroon and coward were he to do otherwise. 

The whole affair presented, as we have before said, 
a singular anomaly in the character of Alberto Cor- 
rello. He had shrewdly drawn out from the husband 
the position which his wife took in the matter, and 
though it condemned himself, his chivalric instinct 
was quite sufficient to sustain the lady’s story and to 
aver her innocence, sustaining it at the risk of his 
own life. 

We are accustomed to associate such delicacy and 
manliness — for this it was on his part — with other 
excellencies of a noble character, in those who ex- 
hibit them. But here was a man with but few vir- 
tues, yet who would not save himself by telling 
even the truth at the lady’s expense? We should 
not have been led to believe him capable of such 
magnanimity, yet who has not, at times, been sur- 
prised by just such contradictions in character? 

The seconds duly held their meeting and arranged 
all preliminaries. The weapons pistols, the distance 
thirty paces, the two principals to turn and fire at 
the word “three,” the count being, one, two, three.” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


83 


The seconds, even, were not permitted to know the 
cause of the quarrel, so the lady’s honor, in any in- 
stance, was carefully preserved. 

This last idea was at the suggestion of Alberto, 
and gladly received by the count, who, as we have 
seen, was especially sensitive about publicity re- 
garding his domestic affairs. 

At the time appointed the two men faced each 
other in the rear grounds of the Park of Capodimonte. 
They were draped in black, and each quietly and 
soberly saluted the other as he took the place as- 
signed to him by the seconds. One of the seconds 
was selected to give the count by which they were 
to fire. All being clearly understood, the weapons 
were now loaded and put into the hands of the com- 
batants. 

There was a momentary pause, very solemn and 
very silent. Then came the words : 

“Gentlemen, are you ready?” 

“Yes,” was the united answer. 

Another pause. Then: 

“One— two — three !” 

At the word “two” Count Amadeo’s pistol was 
heard and Alberto Corrello was seen to start in- 
voluntarily, but to instantly compose himself again. 
Then he quietly uncocked the pistol, which he had 
not fired, and returned it to his second as he said : 

“I have no desire for the count’s life.” 

“I am ready for your fire,” said his antagonist, 
still standing in his place. 

“Are you satisfied?” said Alberto. 

“I am.” 

“It is sufficient then,” said Alberto. 

“Are you wounded?” asked the surgeon, approach- 
ing his side. “I saw you start.” 


84 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


‘‘Slightly in the shoulder,’’ he replied. “Hardly 
requiring your skill, I think.” 

“I must see at all events.” 

And at the urgent demand of the physician he 
took off his coat and showed a flesh wound, but not 
of a dangerous character, in the left shoulder. This 
being properly bandaged, he sought his horse near 
by, and rode back alone to the city. 

Signora Amadeo knew by some means of all this, 
and that Alberto had corroborated her false story in 
order to screen her honor. With womanly persist- 
ency from that hour she hated her husband and 
loved Alberto all the more earnestly. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


85 


CHAPTER IX. 

A SPY IN CAMP. 

We will return with the reader to the robbers’ 
cave in the mountains where we left Marion Bray 
impatiently awaiting her deliverance. 

This stronghold in the nearly inaccessible hills 
had been well chosen, for the locality was a hidden 
mystery to those who did not know the secret paths 
among the rocks and the volcanic soil which formed 
the mountains. 

The cave, as we have already signified, was 
formed partly by nature and partly by the hand of 
man. It was sufiiciently spacious to afford various 
rooms or divisions for domestic purposes, for the 
storage of such booty as it was desirable to keep 
there, and also affording safe keeping for the confine- 
ment of prisoners held for ransom, as in the case of 
the English girl. 

The stewardess, of whom we have had occasion to 
speak as waiting upon Marion Bray, had charge of 
inside matters, and it was surprising to see how very 
neat and clean every thing was kept. This was so 
obvious that Marion had more than once compli- 
mented the patient and industrious woman. The 
cave was not floored, all lived upon the stones or 
earth, as chanced to be the case, and it was all the 
more difficult to keep them cleanly. 

There were a first and second lieutenant in charge 
of the cave and the men, and the respect paid to 
their orders and position was a marked feature of 


86 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


their mutual intercourse. A plain sort of undress 
uniform was worn by all, and the two officers bore a 
simple insignia of their rank on their left breasts, 
besides which, unlike the other men, they wore at 
all times a short, serviceable sword at the side. 
They answered every morning at roll-call, and 
paraded at given hours like a regular military corps. 

A heavy rock was so poised that with little exer- 
tion it could be thrown across the opening or en- 
trance to the cave, while loop-holes appeared through 
interstices of the walls, where the garrison could 
pick off an outside foe without themselves being in 
danger. The plateau in front of the stronghold had 
been cleared of rocks and everything that might 
afford shelter to an attacking party, thus showing 
that every precaution had been taken. 

There were always two men on guard, night and 
day, one being placed near the entrance to the cave, 
and another down the only path leading to the pla- 
teau, some dozen rods, and at special times still 
another was added farther down the mountain 
within hailing distance of the last. There was no 
drinking or carousing ; the men played games, prac- 
ticed feats of strength, and amused themselves in a 
quiet, rational manner, when not out on actual ser- 
vice. 

Undoubtedly it was owing to the excellent organi- 
zation of these banditti that they had been enabled 
for years to defy the government, and to carry on 
such a successful career of public plunder in Neapol- 
itan territory. 

The stranger who had been brought in, and who 
was found straggling in the hills, he who had so 
thoroughly beaten Vecchio in the stand-up fight, 
had made friends with one and all since that day. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


87 


The leader of the gang had not yet made his appear- 
ance among them, so that the Levanter, as he was 
called, had not regularly joined the banditti. He 
entered into all their pastimes, however, and was 
allowed entire liberty in and about the cave, though 
he was not permitted to carry any arms about his 
person. 

This showed a little distrust, or at least not entire 
confidence in the new-comer, but he had not yet 
been accepted by the captain, which acceptance was 
a needed indorsement to fit him for full confidence. 
If the officer in charge had not believed in the hon- 
esty of the Levanter, or if he had found any cause to 
distrust him, his life would at once have been the 
sacrifice. These people had no court-martial to resort 
to ; their judgment was quick and decisive. 

There was no scarcity of guns and pistols in the 
magazine of the cave, one whole apartment being 
used as a sort of arsenal, its walls being hung around 
in a fantastic manner with various kinds of weap- 
ons, daggers, long knives, with sheaths, short sabers, 
ranged in star-shape upon the sides, and plenty of 
powder and ball. The place could have endured a 
protracted siege if required. 

Marion Bray, as she had written to her father, was 
made as comfortable as possible under the circum- 
stances, and save the one great wrong of her ab- 
duction, she had very little to complain of against 
the banditti. No great degree of surveillance was 
deemed to be necessary in her case, for were she to 
attempt to escape, what could a girl do unaided, in 
that most desolate and pathless region? Still she was 
not allowed to leave the cave, and at night was se- 
curely locked within her apartment. 

One evening, after she had been thus locked in for 


88 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


the night, she was suddenly startled by hearing her 
name repeated : 

“Marion — under the door!’’ 

On hearing these words she looked down at her 
feet, and saw a folded bit of paper, which she seized 
and instantly concealed with jealous care. What 
could it mean? There was not sufficient light for her 
to read whatever might be written upon that scrap 
of paper. Who could have placed it there? She was 
completely at a loss to arrive at any plausible con- 
jecture. At any rate there must be some friend near 
her, that was plain enough. It did not seem possible 
for her to wait for daylight to examine the paper, 
but she did so, waking up a dozen times in the 
night, and longing impatiently for the coming of the 
dawn. 

It came at last, for there is an end to the longest 
night, though it hardly seemed so to the over-anx- 
ious girl. As soon as the daylight was sufficient 
inside her prison she read : 

“Marion Be of good cheer. Do not be surprised 
at anything you may see or hear. Be prepared at 
any and all times for instant flight. Save a little 
food in your pocket at each meal. I am disguised 
and carefully watched, so I have to be extremely 
cautious. Destroy this instantly by chewing it up to 
a pulp, and secreting it among the crevices in your 
apartment. Be cautious. W. H.” 

Marion’s heart seemed to be in her throat— it beat 
so rapidly as almost to stop her breath. She trem- 
bled like a leaf. 

“Was it possible?” she asked herself. 

The English girl’s own feelings told her who was 
the friend near to her in this critical moment, and 
yet she was extremely puzzled, for her father had 
written to her that Walter Hammond had been sud- 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


89 


denly called home by a cable telegram. But she al- 
ready knew his handwriting, and though these lines 
were only penciled, she recognized them at once. 
She felt a confidence spring up in her bosom. The 
stout arm that had saved her life amid the waves of 
the sea on that fearful day of the catastrophe at 
Capri, was equal to bringing about her deliverance 
from the banditti. 

Pressing her hands nervously upon her heart, she 
said to herself : 

‘T will strive to be patient, and to be prepared for 
whatever may occur, as he directs, and above all to 
be careful. A word or look might betray him. How 
can he be here undiscovered by these desperate peo- 
ple?’’ 

The reader has doubtless already penetrated the 
successful disguise of the Levanter. To deceive 
those robbers required a skill and patience which 
Walter Hammond at first found to be very difficult, 
but favored by good luck, and aided by his own in- 
domitable perseverance, he finally succeeded even 
better than he had hoped to do. Some coup de main 
was, of course, necessary to interest the brigands 
in him, otherwise he knew that if they were to toler- 
ate his presence for a day, they would be sure to get 
rid of him in some way. 

Chance aided him in impressing the gang with his 
prowess as we have seen. His college training in 
all manner of athletic sports now served him in 
carrying out the character which he assumed. He 
had been long enough accustomed to the sea to 
make his pretended escape from the English man- 
of-war appear exceedingly probable, and there was 
not any part of his masquerade which he had not 


90 MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 

carefully weig^hed before adopting it, hence his 
success with the robbers. 

Fearing the bare possibility of betrayal by some 
unlucky means, he had kept his hazardous purpose 
a secret even from Colonel Bray, and that cable tele- 
gram was answered on the day it was received by a 
response that he would unavoidably be detained for 
a period of some weeks. He then wrote a letter to 
follow, giving some plausible excuse for his delay, 
which should be quite satisfactory to the family at 
home. 

His arrangements for the dangerous experiment 
which he had resolved to try, were soon perfected, 
and at once put in practice. 

Assuming the dilapidated dress of a sailor, and 
taking nothing with him except a couple of Ameri- 
can revolvers and a keen dirk-knife, he picked up 
incidentally such information as he could obtain, 
without betraying his design, and then dashed boldly 
into the mountains. Here he wandered on and on 
enduring for some days great hardship from 
hunger and want of rest, until one night he got 
upon a point overlooking the robbers’ cave to which 
his vision was directed by a moving light. He 
rightly conjectured that he had at last discovered 
the headquarters of the brigands. He marked the 
spot carefully, then approached as near as he 
thought to be safe, and secreting his pistols and 
knife, together with a small flask of brandy, which 
he had carefully preserved for special purposes, he 
lay down and slept until morning. 

Then his wish was’ to be seized by the guard and 
brought into their quarters as a straggler, all of 
which had occurred as he designed. He had car- 
ried his ingenious plan to so nice an extreme as to 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


91 


nearly starve himself, and when brought to the 
cave he had not tasted food for twenty-four hours. 
All this, of course, added to the plausibility of his 
story. He had carefully stained his flesh to look 
like that of one accustomed to great exposure, and 
had freely added a coat of dirt over all. 

His success was complete. 

‘‘You are growing fat and hearty,’’ said the lieu- 
tenant of the gang to him one day. 

“Ah! we were overworked on board ship and 
half -starved,” was the reply. 

“And here you have nothing to do, and all day to 
do it in,” laughingly replied the other. 

“One mends rapidly in the mountain air; it is bet- 
ter than at sea.” 

“You were a very sorry sight when you first came 
in,” said the lieutenant. 

“Yes, I was nearly starved, and had been lost for 
days in the mountains.” 

“You were hungry enough, and ate ten men’s ra- 
tions on that first meal.” 

The officers and men chatted familiarly with him 
now. There was no longer any restraint between 
them. He made himself pleasant company by the 
stories which he told, and was really a growing 
favorite. 

“Where is your captain?” he asked of the lieuten- 
ant, who had just been talking with him. 

“He doesn’t appear among us unless there is busi- 
ness on hand.” 

“Mezzoni they call him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Where does he live?” 

“No one asks questions about Mezzoni. None know 


92 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


anything about him. It is not a safe subject to 
talk about, Levanter.” 

''One would like to know bis captain, especially 
in so peculiar a service.” 

"You will never know Mezzoni, even if you were 
with us for years.” 

"Queer.” 

"It is his will, and he knows best. He keeps us 
all like princes, and whatever he inaugurates al- 
ways proves a success.” 

“Are you often so long idle as you have been 
lately?’ asked the Levanter. 

"No; we have had a long vacation since we 
brought that girl yonder to the cave.” 

"She’s to be ransomed?” 

"Yes.” 

"Do their friends always pay?” 

"Always.” 

" Supposing they refuse?” 

"We have had one such instance. The grave is 
just over the hill,” was his significant answer. "We 
made an example of the man for the benefit of the 
others.” 

"Was that lately?” 

"Four years ago.” 

"Rather rough,” said the Levanter. 

"It was necessary.” 

Of course, Walter Hammond dared not evince the 
least interest in the case of the English girl, and he 
had strenuously avoided ever mentioning her name 
among the gang, or referring in the most distant 
manner to there being a prisoner at the cave. When 
the lieutenant referred to her he passed the matter 
over lightly, and was careful not to dwell upon it. 
He had thus far succeeded even better than he 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


93 


would have dared to hope, and he did not propose to 
mar the consummation of his plans by any indiscre- 
tion. 

About this time the prisoner received another pen- 
ciled scrap, thrust under her door in the same man- 
ner as before, as follows : 

“Marion: — Get by some means a pair of the 
woman’s bootees and wear them. Say that your 
shoes pain your feet — say something, but get them. 
Your slippers are too frail for attempting the rocky 
paths of these mountains. I am more and more 
trusted every day. Be ready ! 

“Destroy this as usual. W.” 

Marion read this over several times, then she de- 
stroyed it as she had done before, at once entering 
into negotiations with her attendant for obtaining a 
pair of her strong and serviceable laced boots. She 
realized what this precaution signified, and she felt 
sure that Walter was quietly biding his time. She 
determined to be ready to respond at any hour when 
called upon, night or day. The young girl could 
hardly say which thought most strongly dwelt in 
her mind, the devotion and gallantry of the young 
American or the possibility of escape. She certainly 
felt that escape would be undesirable without him. 
Walter Hammond, it must not be supposed, was ad- 
mitted to the councils of the gang. Such confidence 
would have been unreasonable at this juncture of 
his connection with them. He was enabled to ob- 
serve, however, that something was going on differ- 
ent from usual, and that the men seemed to be pre- 
paring for some expedition of more than ordinary 
importance. 

Their arms were carefully inspected, and they 
were paraded and exercised twice each day, until 
his curiosity was thoroughly aroused. He dared not 


94 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


appear curious, however, and would not permit him- 
self to ask any questions relative to these move- 
ments. He quietly looked on with assumed indiffer- 
ence at everything he saw. 


CHAPTER X. 

POISONED ! 

Count Amadeo’s secret, with regard to the cause 
of his late duel, was well kept, so much that his 
most intimate friends never for a moment suspected 
its real importance. 

A singular depression seemed to take possession 
of the count, however, and he grew more sober and 
taciturn. He had thought in secret very intently 
upon the duel and its cause, and had been more and 
more impressed with the remarkable behavior of 
Alberto Corrello. 

“Guilty men do not conduct themselves in that 
manner,’’ he said to himself. 

As to Signora Amadeo, she, too, seemed to be 
greatly changed of late. She brooded over her dis- 
grace with her husband, though not because she hon- 
estly repented of her guilty love for the roue of the 
Corrello family. She dreamed of him still ; indeed 
her passion, though now more guarded, had taken 
the form of mania, and was the more dangerous 
from its smoldering character. She watched him, 
herself unseen, in a thousand different ways, and 
said to herself, “Since he has risked his life and has 
been wounded rather than to expose me, I will un- 
hesitatingly risk all and everything for him.” She 
meant all she declared. 

Count Amadeo was over sixty years of age, and 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


95 


either naturally decaying powers, or the mental 
trouble this subject had caused him, seemed, as we 
have intimated, to seriously wear upon him. He 
grew languid, remained much at home, slept a large 
portion of the time, two-thirds at least of the twenty- 
four hours, and in short was plainly a sick man. 
His physician was called to see him, but beyond a 
few simple suggestions, recommended nothingj de- 
claring to some of his anxious friends that the count 
was growing old, and there was no disguising so 
plain a fact. The physician being more closely 
questioned said that he thought he would soon be 
better, and in the meantime he would give him 
tonics. 

Let her infidelity of heart be as earnest as it might. 
Signora Amadeo seemed to make up for it in her 
character of nurse, for she permitted no want of her 
invalid husband, however trifling it might be, to go 
unsatisfied, devoting many hours of the day and 
night to his care. She made no parade of this, but 
simply seemed to be doing the conscientious duty of 
a devoted wife. The old count himself was mani- 
festly touched by this unusual attention, and the 
self-abnegation which it entailed. It needed not the 
hints of his friends to lead him to observe this 
characteristic of his wife. He was a tender and ap- 
preciative husband after all ; a gentleman at heart 
in all things. 

The count spoke very kindly to his wife upon all 
matters, intimated that he had entirely forgiven her 
for that little piece of youthful indiscretion, as he 
was pleased to term it, relating to her visit to the 
Corrello palace, and promised as soon as his own 
health should be sufficiently improved to consult her 
wishes more closely in all things. They would go 


96 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


to Paris, where she had so long desired to pass a 
season, and she should have her own special car- 
riage, a light and graceful toy which should be im- 
ported especially from America for her. He ap- 
peared to enjoy laying out plans for her future en- 
joyment as he lay there invalided. 

“You are only too good to me,” she would reply, 
with assumed tenderness. 

“Well, my dear, it is because you are so very good 
to me,” he would reply. 

And then she would leave him, and putting aside 
her hypocrisy, would sit gloomily alone, and brood 
over her passion for Alberto. The days passed 
rapidly on, and the count grew worse and worse, 
until his physician began to shake his head and talk 
about rapid consumption, to intimate that the pa- 
tient was a very sick man, in short that his Sjy'mp- 
toms indicated rapid and fatal decay of vital powers. 
The wife heard this with well-alfected sadness, and 
thought that it was by no means best to tell the 
count of his true condition unless it might render 
him fatally nervous. 

With this view of the Signora Amadeo concerning 
her husband, the physician and one of his profes- 
sional brethren called in for mere form’s sake, en- 
tirely agreed, and therefore the sick man sank grad- 
ually without himself being aware that he was so 
seriously ill, or so absolutely near to his end. Per- 
haps the possibility of his sickness proving fatal 
dawned upon him ; if so, however, it must have 
been so faint as to make little impression. But the 
old man faded rapidly, day by day, so that there 
could be no doubt of his real condition. Friends be- 
gan to look grave. 

Finally the physician’s sense of professional duty 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


97 


compelled him to intimate to the count, very gently, 
that it was always best to be prepared, but still not 
to look on the dark side. He said that he thought 
all people who lay sick were more at ease, and more 
likely to get well, if the mind was contented, and if 
he (the count) thought of any business arrange- 
ments, looking to the possibility of death, which re- 
quired adjustment, perhaps it would be best to have 
the matter attended to. 

“I am entirely prepared in that respect,” said the 
sick man. 

‘‘Ah, that is well,” said the doctor. “Not impera- 
tive, you know, but safe.” 

“I have left everything to my good wife here,” he 
continued, and as he said so he stretched out his 
hand feebly to Signora Amadeo. 

“How hot your hands are!” she exclaimed, with a 
shudder, as he touched her own. 

“Yes. I feel as though there was a fire inside of 
me,” he replied. 

“He is feverish to-day,” said the doctor. “I will 
leave some cooling drops.” 

“Please to do so, doctor, and write down the di- 
rections as to giving them,” said the wife. 

“Oh, give them freely, they are innocent and can- 
not do any harm.” 

The Signora Amadeo, as she stood there, was the 
personification of striking womanly beauty. She 
was tall for one of her sex, her figure superbly 
rounded, her eyes large, black, and lustrous, and her 
manner exquisitely graceful. The physician paused 
for a moment to note her majestic loveliness as she 
stood beside the sick man’s pillow. She might be 
twenty-eight or nine years of age, not more, and 


98 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


was, he thought to himself, as perfect a style of fe- 
male beauty as he had ever seen. 

The wife appeared lost for a few moments in a 
waking dream, from which she was aroused by her 
husband’s voice : 

“Did he not leave some cooling drops?” asked the 
restless invalid. 

“Yes.” 

“Give them to me, my dear, for I feel consumed 
by inward fever.” 

“I will in one moment,” she replied. 

She retired from the sick-room, but soon returned 
with a vial of colorless liquid, which she dropped in 
a wine-glass of water, and holding it to his lips bade 
him drink. He swallowed the potion and sank back 
quite overcome, even by so slight an exertion. She 
watched him for a few moments intently. He fell 
asleep then, murmured in his slumbers, talking un- 
consciously of his wife. His “tender and kind 
wife!” A few moments later he opened his eyes, 
and said : 

“More air — I choke.” 

“I will open the window.” 

“These drops burn me like fire; can they be really 
cooling medicine?” 

“The doctor said so.” 

“Ah, well, he knows, of course,” sighed the sick 
man, with parched lips. 

“My dear,” he said, after a moment more, “good- 
night. I think I am going to sleep.” 

“Good-night,” she said. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

She bent over his pillow, quietly, and touched his 
forehead with her lips. 

“Thank you, my dear, good-night!” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


99 


The Count Amadeo was dead ! 

It was the last flicker of the lamp of life. Cour- 
teous and tender to the very last, the husband had 
parted with the companion of his bosom, as he had 
always done, gently and uncomplainingly. 

“Good-night!’’ 

The history of Lucrezia Borgia is no myth in Ital- 
ian story, and the subtle poisons used in her day are 
by no means unknown in our own times. 

The Signora Amadeo had poisoned the conflding 
old count, not by one fatal dose, but by piecemeal, 
little by little, sapping his life away and leaving no 
trace. She put her ear to his heart, which had ever 
beat so loyally for her, forgiving her misdeeds and 
ministering to her pleasure, and listened. She 
looked up pale but Arm. It beat no more. 

“Free at last!” she said. 

A few hours of hypocrisy on her part, a few con- 
ventional ceremonies, and the body lay in its final 
resting-place, the silent tomb. 

The widow of Count Amadeo had punctiliously 
complied with all that propriety demanded of her, 
and no one had a reproach to utter, so far as her 
name was concerned. She was even envied by the 
fashionable Neapolitan world, though they might 
not give utterance to such thoughts. Was she not 
young, beautiful, and very rich. On her part she 
cared very little what the gossips said of her, she 
was as much consumed with an inward passion as 
the count had been by that more tangible but 
scarcely less fatal poison. 

What a sacrifice she had made to the god of her 
mad idolatry ! 

She asked herself what she should do next? All 


100 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


this was but a stepping-stone to her purpose. It was 
a means, not an end. 

She sat down and wrote as follows : 

“Alberto: — You know that the count is dead. I 
never loved him, it was the usual marriage of con- 
venience, the curse and necessity of our station in 
life. The memory of our early association has only 
slumbered in my heart, it has never been obliter- 
ated. I am free now ! I know how generously, how 
nobly you protected my name in that matter which 
caused the duel. 

“If, as I freely told you, I loved you before, how 
much more dearly must I regard you after such self- 
sacrifice in my behalf. Laying aside the cold con- 
ventionalities of society, why may I not tell you all 
this, as I should do if I were a man and you were a 
woman? You are reported to be wealthy by some, 
others think your fortune quite limited. I have 
enough for both. 

“Did you dismiss me so coldly, actuated by a sense 
of honor toward your friend, the late Count 
Amadeo? I know that no sense of fear could move 
you. All seemed lost to me then — now fortune 
seems to have once more opened to me the possible 
gates of happiness. Does disappointment again 
await me? 

“Write to me if only one line.” 

There was no need of a signature to this missive. 
The letter burning with the mad love of the writer 
told its own story. She read it over before she 
sealed and addressed it, while her cheeks bore evi- 
dence, in a blush, that all sense of delicacy had not 
yet entirely departed. 

“Whom the gods would destroy, they first make- 
mad,” she said, quoting the classic axiom. 

“Am I mad? Is it really I who am doing this 
thing? Has all sense of modesty departed from me? 
Be that as it may, it is too late to turn back, I can 




MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


101 


only go forward now ; behind me lies madness,” she 
said, abruptly. 

She touched a bell upon her writing desk, and told 
the servant who answered it to take the note to the 
palace of Alberto Corrello, and leave it. 

“Shall I await an answer?” 

“No.” 

Then covering her face with her hands, she sat 
back in her chair and recalled with frightful vivid- 
ness and minuteness the terrible events of the past 
few weeks, a visible shudder passing over her frame 
from time to time as she did so. 

The countess had said in her letter that the mem- 
ory of her early associations with Alberto had 
never been obliterated from her heart, but had only 
slumbered there. She may have thought this, but 
when the proud and rich Count Amadeo led her to 
the altar, she was no unwilling bride. She felt all 
the pride of rank and station, title and wealth, 
which she received with the hand of her husband. 
She had been as much dazzled by these as her par- 
ents had been. It had required but little persuasion 
on their part to lead her to accept the count as her 
husband. We have said she was a willing bride. 

But all such marriages, ill-assorted in point of 
age, are liable to pall upon the youngest to the com- 
pact. As to the count himself, he had truly loved 
and honored his wife, never having an hour of dis- 
cord upon any subject, until that fatal one which we 
have recorded. 

It was her own restless spirit which led her to re- 
call the past and her early associations with Alberto. 
Since those days a fascination had been thrown 
about her former lover, as we have said, by reason 
of the many romantic stories told about him. 


102 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


She sat, as we have seen, with her face covered by 
her hands and dreamed, as it were, while awake — 
her great crime ever staring her in the face, and a 
shadowy vision of her dead husband floating in her 
morbid imagination. 

“There is no turning back now,’’ she repeated to 
herself. “It is too late — too late! Ah, is the bitter 
cup of repentance to be drank so quickly?” she 
added, with a shudder. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


103 


CHAPTER XI. 

A BLIGHTED HEART. 

We have had no glimpse of the inner life of Al- 
berto Corrello. Let us observe him for a moment as 
he sat alone in his own apartment reading that 
singular letter from the Countess Amadeo. 

He read the letter more than once, then sat still 
gazing upon the lines, until finally he started up 
and walked the room with undisguised emotion. He 
was now looking far back into the past, and a bitter 
smile wreathed his handsome lips. 

‘T had never thought,” he said, half aloud, ‘‘to 
recur to this matter again, but I will do so for her 
sake, and let her know for once, how dearly and 
fondly she was loved, when I was as innocent as 
herself and worthy of her!” 

We can do no better than to give the reader in full 
the peculiar letter which he dispatched to Signora 
Amadeo, in reply to that which she had written to 
him. It will give a clearer idea of this singular and 
mysterious man than any description of him by the 
pen: 

“Signora : I need hardly tell you how far back into 
the past the words of your note have carried me— to 
the days when you and I were boy and girl together, 
and lovers !» You then commanded all of my tender- 
est affections— you were to me an idol. I never 
dared to express to you one-half the power of my 
love. I was disinclined to do so, because this senti- 
ment had become so extravagant and absorbing in 
me, that you would have been frightened had I 
given expression to its earnestness. 


104 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


“Then came the harsh injunction of your parents. I 
was poor, their daughter must mend the fortunes of 
their house by a wealthy alliance. Your husband 
must be rich. I did then plead with your father, and 
avowed to him that if he separated us he would ren- 
der my life a blank. I told him that I would win 
fortune, that he need have no fear on that score, 
only let me hope that by and by, when I came to 
him, and showed that I was worthy of your love, 
and that I had the necessary means to meet all 
reasonable wants, he would give me your hand. 

“It was useless. His mind was fixed, and at that 
time I fancied, and I think rightly, that you cared far 
less for me than I did for you. You were all in all 
to me then. I had no object in life unconnected with 
you, and a happy future for us both together. So 
intimately had this idea interwoven itself with my 
hopes that it became a part of my very existence. 
Such love is destined nearly always to disappoint- 
ment, and rarely escapes a fatal end. So in my in- 
stance. It was to me ruin ! I could not bear the 
disappointment that followed. Ambition, self-re- 
spect, hope, everything abandoned me. 

“Ah, signora, I was innocent then, and really 
worthy of your love and trust, but despair gradually 
led me, step by step, to dangerous ways. The down- 
ward road is so easy ! The backward track so nearly 
impossible! I became a gambler. Some one pas- 
sion must root out the other maddening one. Since 
that day, like Hamlet, I could accuse myself of such 
deeds that it were better I had never been born. 
You know what I was. Heaven only knows what I 
am ! There is no room for love in my heart now — 
that place is usurped by the demon of play. 

“Alberto.” 

He spoke truly in those lines. Twelve years before 
he had been a worthy representative of the noble 
house whose name he bore, and of which he was the 
last scion. He was but nineteen years of age when 
his heart had been literally broken by the sad disap- 
pointment to which his letter referred. There was 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


105 


every promise of a proud and happy career before 
him then, and all of his instincts were those of a 
noble and chivalrous character, but all had been 
blotted out, and misanthropy took possession of his 
soul. 

The Countess Amadeo sat over his answer to her 
letter, and, as he had done when he received hers, 
she read and re-read it until she was nearly blind 
with tears and disappointment. She was wonder- 
fully beautiful even in those tears — there seemed to 
be no mood which did not suit her. 

“Oh, that he were here at this moment,” she ex- 
claimed. “Is this really to be the end? Is my awful 
sacrifice for naught? Does Alberto refuse my love at 
last? He did love me. I knew that always, but how 
deeply he loved I did not know. Ah! it was not 
until after years of disappointed wedded life that my 
eyes came to see him in the light which has brought 
me to this. What care I for his sins and peccadilloes? 
He cannot be more guilty than I!” 

As she talked thus half aloud to herself, she wrung 
her hands and walked nervously back and forth in 
her private apartment. Then she sat down and 
read those lines again until she could have repeated 
every syllable. Despair was clearly depicted upon 
her beautiful face, and there glowed a spirit of des- 
peration, now and then, in her eyes that was start- 
ling to behold. She pressed her hands upon her 
heart to still its wild and painful throbbing, but it 
was in vain ; she seemed almost stified, and gasped 
for breath. 

Suddenly she started to her desk, and said, aloud : 

“I will see him once more at all events.” 

And she scrawled a hasty note, pleading with him 


106 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


to come to her for a few moments, if for the last 
time. 

“You must come/’ she said. 

Alberto hesitated. He had never been inside of the 
Amadeo palace since her marriage with the count. 
He had an instinctive dread to meet her alone, but 
at last he said : 

“She has a right to demand a last interview. I 
will go,” and he went at once to meet her. 

He was shown, as she had directed, into her pri- 
vate boudoir, and found the countess sitting there 
as she had been when she dispatched her last hasty 
summons to him. 

“I have come as you desired.” 

“Oh, Alberto, how can you cast me off?” 

“Hay, signora, my letter tells you all.” 

“It is killing me!” 

“Can you not understand how I felt, then, years 
ago, when desperation filled my heart? Ay, and 
made me what I am!” he said, gloomily. 

“I knew not that you loved me in those days so 
earnestly.” 

“True.” 

“But if I had I could not have averted the fate 
which was marked out for me.” 

“True again.” 

“But now, Alberto,” she said, rising and ap- 
proaching him, “we are free!” 

“You are free, but I am bound more closely than 
as though my wrists were hung with chains.” 

“I do not understand you.” 

“My letter was very plain.” 

“But these cords?” 

“Our sins bind us as surely as iron chains,” he re- 
plied, solemnly. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


107 


‘‘Whatever those sins may be, Alberto, they 
weigh as nothing beside my love. ” 

As she said this she looked pleadingly at him, 
with her very soul in her eyes, and held out her 
hands toward him. Strange emotions swelled Al- 
berto’s breast for a moment. Both stood thus silent, 
and both were more visibly moved than at any other 



“but now, ALBERTO, WE ARE FREE!” 
period of their intercourse. At last Alberto sighed 
bitterly and turned to leave her, as he said : 

“You only show me, signora, what might have 
been!” 

“What can he mean by being bound by chains so 
closely?” asked Signora Amadeo of herself, as he 
thus left her. “Can he be entangled with any 


108 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


woman? I would put a dagger into her heart with 
out one moment’s hesitation if such were the case.” 

She chafed like a wild beast at the very idea. She 
was in'a dangerous mood now, and capable of any 
act, however violent. 

Alberto Corrello went thoughtfully toward his own 
residence after leaving Signora Amadeo. His eyes 
were upon the ground, and he seemed entirely lost 
within himself or he would otherwise have observed 
that he had been followed by a man, both on his 
way from home and now on his return toward it. 
The stranger had no strong individuality of dress or 
manner, but seemed to an unobservant person to be 
merely strolling through the streets with the care- 
lessness of an idler. 

A careful observer, however, would have noticed 
that the man’s eyes were never off Alberto Corrello. 
Just as the latter was about to enter his own door he 
looked up and caught the eye of this man upon him, 
and he remembered having seen him once or twice 
before, at different places, and particularly in one 
of the gambling hells which he frequented nightly. 
He did not seem to notice him very carefully, and 
yet he wondered who the man could be. He was a 
stranger in Naples and a foreigner he thought by 
his appearance, as he strolled along. 

When Beppo admitted his master, Alberto said to 
the servant: 

“Notice that man just crossing the street yonder. 
Here, this way.” 

“I see him, sir.” 

“Have you seen him before?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Where?” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


109 


“I have seeahim walking up and down before the 
gates, but I only noticed him as a stranger.” 

“Walking up and down before the gates!” mut- 
tered Alberto to himself. “What is in the wind 
now?” 

Ten minutes afterward the man who had been fol- 
lowing Alberto Corrello was run against by a lame 
beggar, who asked his pardon for the carelessness 
and took his post hard by to solicit alms of those 
who passed that way. The stranger swore a good 
round English oath at the annoyance, for the beggar 
had put his crutch upon his foot, which must have 
caused him some pain for a few minutes, as he 
limped along, visibly lame from the contact. 

The lame beggar seemed to pay no attention to 
the anger of the stranger, though any one near to 
him might have- heard the ragged-looking fellow 
mutter to himself : 

“An Englishman. I thought so.” 

As the stranger had so lately watched Alberto 
Corrello, so now the lame beggar slowly followed 
and watched the stranger, keeping him clearly in 
sight along the crowded Strada di Roma, until he 
saw him enter into the Plaza del Plebiscite, and 
pass from there into the Strada St. Carlo. Here he 
saw the man, after he had lingered for a few mo- 
ments gazing at the busy scene exhibited in the 
grand square, at last enter the shop of Woolf & Co., 
the Jewish dealers in gold and silver ornaments and 
precious stones. The lame beggar seemed to have 
accomplished his purpose, for he now turned away, 
and soon after disappeared among the crowd who 
were wending their way toward the National Mu- 
seum. 


110 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


As the beggar left the grand square one might 
have heard him say, significantly : 

“I thought so.’’ 

The stranger was the English detective, as the 
reader will have surmised. He had some theory 
which he was testing, and he had for several days 
been shadowing Alberto Corrello. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


Ill 


CHAPTER XII. 

A RUNNING FIGHT. 

The preparations which Walter Hammond had no- 
ticed as being made for some special event by the 
robbers at the cave were quite significant and not to 
be mistaken. So at last he was informed that the 
band would depart in a body on the following after- 
noon, to be absent two or three days. Two men 
would be left in care of the stronghold, and the 
Levanter was told to make himself handy in case 
there should be any necessity for his services. 

“Where is the captain?’’ asked Walter of the lieu- 
tenant, who had just given him this information. 

“He will meet us below.” 

“In the valley?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then I shall not see him.” 

“Not until our return.” 

“I want to see Mezzoni.” 

“Few people say that,” answered the other, sig- 
nificantly, as he looked sharply at the Levanter. 

This departure of the band was just the occasion 
which Walter had been waiting for, and it had 
come in good time, so he at once set himself to work 
planning the manner in which he should proceed. 
That night Marion was informed of the circum- 
stances of the case by means of a scrap of paper, 
thrust as heretofore under her door. She was told 
to hold herself in readiness at any moment. Walter 
had taken the first opportunity to get his revolvers 
and dirk-knife, and to secrete them on his person ; 


112 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


nor did he forget a certain small flask of brandy. 
He also succeeded in purloining a pocket-compass 
which he found in the cave, considering the latter 
as important as his weapons. 

He had hard work to suppress his own impatience 
until the gang should start, but he knew that the 
least indiscretion would betray him, and so he care- 
fully sustained his well-feigned indifference to the 
movements about him. Indeed he appeared to be 
asleep most of that day, and was even joked for his 
chronic laziness. 

It was late in the afternoon when some eighteen 
men, under the command of the two lieutenants, 
tiled away from the plateau in front of the cave, on 
their destined excursion. The Levanter was heard 
to regret that he could not join them, and was told 
that next time, doubtless, he would be permitted to 
do so. The cave was thus left with two members of 
the band and the woman, the Levanter being looked 
upon as a sort of supernumerary, though able to ren- 
der important assistance if necessary. 

Walter had selected a spare suit of clothes belong- 
ing to one of the smallest members of the gang, and 
had placed it where he could put his hand upon it 
when wanted in a hurry. This he designed for 
Marion to wear, for she could make no headway 
with her long skirts in those rugged mountain paths, 
besides which the dress would serve partially for a 
disguise if required. This he had informed her of in 
the usual way, and told her to lay aside all false 
delicacy, and when he should throw the clothes into 
her cell to put them on instantly. 

Finally the gang had disappeared, and the coast 
was comparatively clear for the young American to 
carry out his well-digested plans for escape. 


MEZZONI THE BBIGAND, 


113 


It was nearly dark when the two robbers, with 
Walter and the stewardess, sat down to their supper. 
Walter said, banteringly, as the meal progressed, 
that when they brought him in they did not search 
him very closely, for he then had a pocket flask of 
brandy on his person, and that he had it still. These 
mountaineers have a passion for brandy, a liquor 
which they rarely see and seldom taste, so when 
they heard this they were eager for a draught imme- 
diately. The Levanter said that he didn’t mind 
sharing it with them, now their members were so 
small, but thought that he had the first right, so un- 
corking the flask he put it to his own lips first, and 
showed evident signs of relish at the taste of the 
liquor. With a caution as to moderation he passed 
it to his next neighbor. 

Walter watched them keenly. 

The robber who had received the flask from him 
took two or three hearty swallows, and so did his 
companion. The woman looked as though she would 
like to do the same if she were allowed to, and at 
Walter’s suggestion she took a couple of swallows 
clear, from the flask. There was but very little left 
when it was handed back to Walter, and he took, or 
pretended to take, another ample drink. 

‘‘Talk about wine, that’s the stuff for me,” said 
one of the men. 

“Warms you up so,” added the other. 

“But it bites a little,” said the woman, who had, 
like the others, taken a stiff portion. 

“Any left?” asked the robber next to Walter. 

“A drop.” 

“Let’s have it.” 

“Divide it fairly between you two,” said Walter. 

They swallowed the balance eagerly, while the 


114 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


young American went on eating a hearty meal, but 
soon observed his companions nodding their heads, 
and one declared that the brandy was good, but 
dused strong. In fifteen minutes after partaking of 
the liquor the two men and the woman were sound 
asleep, with their heads upon the table. He made 
sure of this. . The morphine had done its work ! 

Time was very precious — there was not one mo- 
ment to lose. Walter now hastened for the suit of 
clothes, and opening Marion’s door, for the first time 
since her confinement there, he saw the young Eng- 
lish girl, and spoke to her. She instantly gave him 
both her hands, still pausing long enough to assure 
herself that it was really Walter Hammond under 
that strange and puzzling disguise. He kissed the 
hands she had given him, while tears ran down her 
own cheeks. He said : 

“Quick! No ceremony, Marion. I will leave you 
for a moment. Put these on at once. ” 

“I will.” 

She obeyed like a child, and when Walter came 
back to her, a few moments afterward, she was 
dressed and looked like a boy. Stopping an instant 
to thrust some provisions into his pocket, Walter 
seized Marion’s arm, looked sharply at the sleepers, 
and together they stole away from the plateau. 

A momentary observation was taken, and Walter 
laid his course by means of the pocket compass, saw 
that his revolvers were in perfect order, ready for 
instant use, and gave the dirk-knife to Marion, say- 
ing: 

“Put this in a handy place about your persoh, as a 
last resort, if the worst comes to the worst. Do not 
shudder; we must be prepared. ” 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


115 


“Frightful thought/’ she replied, but did as he 
had directed her. 

Even at that critical moment they could not fail to 
observe the beauty of the night. The moon was at 
its full, and blazed down on the blackened and vol- 
canic ground in marvelous contrast. Broad day 
could hardly have been lighter, and to start with, 
while Walter knew that he was unpursued, this bril- 
liant accompaniment of the heavens was a favorable 
escort for their purpose. 

By the secret paths and cut-offs, known only to 
the robbers, they could pass over the mountain in 
one quarter of the time that would be required by 
strangers to accomplish the same distance. Walter 
knew this very well, but he also knew that their ig- 
norance of these paths might in one sense prove to 
be their means of safety, as the pursuers who should 
start out for them would not know what route to 
take. If they followed the shortest route to which 
they were accustomed, they would miss them of 
course. 

The portion of narcotic which had been introduced 
into the brandy, he felt satisfied would chain the 
brains of those at the cave until morning, when he 
expected that the two men would undoubtedly start 
after them. But by that time he hoped to put a long 
distance between them and his fair charge. 

“We must travel all night, Marion.” 

“I feel that I can do so,” she replied. 

“And then if we are not in a safe neighborhood, 
we must keep hidden during the day.” 

“That certainly seems to be wise.” 

“I hope by the middle of the second night, at all 
events, to place you in safety.” 

“Oh! Walter,” for she had come to call him that, 


116 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


“I already owe you my life. What a burden of in- 
debtedness have you placed me under.” 

He took her hand, and pressing it to his lips 
looked eloquently into her eyes, but said nothing. 
Surely hearts do not require audible language. 

On, on the two young people struggled, and it was 
a hard struggle, as they followed no beaten path, 
but went over rocks and down steep declivities until 
they were both nearly exhausted. At last Walter 
saw that Marion was ready to fall down with 
fatigue, so he reluctantly determined to pause for 
rest. He gathered a pile of moss, leaves, and what- 
ever might serve to furnish a temporary bed, and ar- 
ranging these in a sheltered nook, he bade her lie 
down and rest. For himself he selected a spot not 
far away, and placing his back to a rock, he soon 
slept, though lightly. 

Marion Bray, with all the innocence and confi- 
dence of a child, dropped to sleep almost instantly 
after her severe exercise. This was very necessary 
in order to enable her to endure the fatigue which 
was before her. As to her gallant companion, he 
too was being refreshed, and thus enabled to meet 
the severe call upon his physical strength. 

It was Marion who rose first, and seeking Walter’s 
resting place she accidentally awoke him by tread- 
ing upon a dried stick, which broke beneath her 
feet. It was already daylight; so the two ate a 
few mouthfuls of their provisions, and drank from a 
clear cold spring of water hard by, then once more 
resumed their flight, thoroughly refreshed and in ex- 
cellent spirits. 

“Fortune favors us so far, Marion,” said her 
guide, as they pressed forward. 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


117 


‘‘It does, indeed. I am so thoroughly refreshed; it 
seems as though I could walk all day.’’ 

“You are a brave girl, Marion.” 

Walter Hammond did not much fear the two men 
whom he had left behind at the cave, though they 
were able fellows and trusted ones, or else they 
would not have been left in charge of the strong- 
hold, and of so valuable a prisoner. Still he thought 
the chances, as against these two men, were in his 
favor. True they had rifles while he had only re- 
volvers, but he must hot let them take him at long 
range. So far as pistols would prove effective, he 
knew that he was a good shot, doubtless much bet- 
ter than they were. 

On leaving the cave he had at first selected a good 
rifle, and the proper ammunition to serve it, but, 
upon reflection, he realized that it would prove to 
be a serious impediment to his progress. He had 
wandered for days among the paths, or rather path- 
less spots, and felt that his revolvers were all the 
weapons that he could carry with advantage. 

His greatest fear was that these two men might 
be able to bring back a portion of the gang who had 
departed, and thus hunt them in numbers. Of 
course, if this was the case, his chances of escape 
would be greatly lessened. However, he kept these 
speculations to himself, and to Marion’s questions 
he only replied that they would hope for the best, 
and go on as rapidly as possible. The sleeping po- 
tion would hold them until sunrise he felt sure, but 
that hour had already arrived, and the robbers 
might be able to make as much headway after them 
in one hour’s time as they had accomplished during 
the first part of the night, before pausing for rest. 


118 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


All this Walter discussed within his own breast, not 
aloud. 

And so the two cheered each other onward, and 
were full of hope for the best. Suddenly Walter 
heard a shout behind them, up among the rocks ! 
They were pursued, and that cry was one of the rob- 
bers calling to the other. He hastily drew Marion 
behind the shelter of a rocky projection, and at the 
same time hid himself from view. 

“The fellows must have come down the mountain 
like the wind, to have reached us so quickly as this,’’ 
he said. 

“They have come probably by known paths, while 
we have climbed all the way,” said Marion; “that 
must be the reason.” 

“Very true.” 

“Must we stop here?” 

“For a few moments.” 

Walter could see one of the robbers whom he had 
left in the cave, now examining the rocks in all di- 
rections, as he came along, but his companion was 
not yet in sight 

“I wish I had doubled that dose of morphine, but 
I did not want to take their lives, if I could help it,” 
said Walter. 

The young American was very cool, and was cal- 
culating exactly how far his Wesson revolver would 
prove elfective. The robber was now nearing them 
very fast, when Walter realized that it was time to 
stop his farther progress. It was still with reluc- 
tance that he took deliberate aim and fired!^ 

The robber dropped instantly, at the same time 
giving a long, peculiar cry to his comrade. This cry 
he had heard before, and understood its significa- 
tion to be a call for assistance. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


119 


Walter knew that he would not probably be fol- 
lowed again for some time at least, and so he hur- 
ried Marion down the rough way once more, turn- 
ing momentarily to see that the second robber did 
not draw a ‘‘bead’’ on them with his rifle. The other 
outlaw must have been at a long distance from his 
companion, Walter concluded, because he had kept 
his eye on the spot where the first had fallen, and if 
he had been joined by his mate would certainly have 
seen him. He felt sure that he had wounded the rob- 
ber at whom he had shot, very severely, he fell so 
instantaneously. There was one only left to pursue 
them. He could not but feel that he had much 
rather this man would come on now than have him 
return for help, though it would give him a moment 
or two more of respite from attack. 

“Are you very weary?” he asked of Marion. 

“Ho. I can go on a long time yet. ” 

“There is only one to pursue us now.” 

“Oh, Walter, do you think that you killed him?” 
she asked, with clasped hands. She was a woman, 
and could not bear the idea. 

“I may not have killed him, Marion, but he will 
follow us no more,” was the reply. 

“Though I know it is necessary,” said the young 
girl, “yet I cannot reconcile the idea with my feel- 
ings for a moment.” 

“It is natural that you should feel so,” said Wal- 
ter, taking her hand kindly. 

“It is so terrible to take human life.” 

“Except in self-defense.” 

“True,” she said; “after all, it is our lives or 
theirs, I suppose.” 

“Exactly the question.” 

While this conversation was going on Walter had 


120 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


not been looking about bim so carefully as before, 
and he now heard the sharp report of a rifle, as the 
ball tore up the earth close by his side. He turned 
and saw that it was the companion of the fallen rob- 
ber who had flred at him. He had been considerably 
in advance of his comrade, and his ball had been 
sent from a line quite parallel with their course and 
present position. He was not within reach of Wal- 
ter’s revolver, so it was of no use to Are at him. He 
doubted if the robber had heard the cry of his mate 
for help, being so far separated from him. 

If this was the case, neither could he have heard 
the pistol shot which had wounded the other robber, 
and he might possibly think that Walter was un- 
armed and be thus drawn upon him without farther 
precaution. All these thoughts passed through the 
young American’s mind with lightning-like rapidity, 
and to entice the bandit forward he had at once 
dropped upon one knee as though his shot had 
wounded him. The trick deceived the pursuer, 
who, not even waiting (as he should have done) to 
reload his rifle, ran in his eagerness toward the fugi- 
tive at his best speed. 

Permitting him to come within fair range, Walter 
sprang to his feet, and aiming full and fair at the 
man, flred, all so rapidly that the robber had not 
time to present his own pistol, which was thrust 
conspicuously in his belt. The ball from the fugi- 
tive’s pistol took effect in the right forearm, so that 
the outlaw dropped his rifle unable to hold it. See- 
ing the result of his shot, Walter did not" fire a sec- 
ond time, but quickly seizing Marion’s arm hurried 
her away on their course. 

“Oh, Walter, did he fall?” 

“JSTo, Marion, but he is wounded in a safe place; 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


121 


he cannot use either rifle or pistol against us for the 
present.” 

‘That is much better than taking his life,” said 
the breathless girl, as they hurried on. 

The last pursuer sounded the peculiar cry for help, 
like that uttered by his comrade when he fell by 
Walter’s flrst shot, but his mate, if he heard him at 
all, was unable to come to his aid, and the fugitives 
saw the man retreating with his rifle on his left 
arm; he could not even load much less aim it, 
wounded as he now was. The robber was evidently 
intent upon finding his comrade, wherever he might 
be. 

Walter could see the wounded man for some dis- 
tance still, as he did not seek to avoid exposing him- 
self and Marion now. He knew that for a while at 
least they were safe, but as the robbers had plenty 
of allies among the peasants, he felt that the part of 
his escape the hardest to safely accomplish would 
doubtless be that at the foot of the mountain when 
they should approach the level country. Here he 
would be suspected as having escaped from the cave 
by any mountaineer whom they might chance to 
meet. He therefore made a circuitous route which 
should bring them on the nearest side to Naples, be- 
fore they should descend much farther toward the 
plain, and it was very fortunate that he did so, for 
scarcely had he adopted this purpose and selected a 
spot for temporary rest, before he saw, far through 
an opening in the rocks, a couple of rough fellows 
whom he suspected were bound for the ' robbers’ 
cave. They passed the two fugitives without dis- 
covering' them, though they came so near that their 
conversation was distinctly overheard, and even 
understood, by Marion and her companion. 


122 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


It was plain enough to Walter that he must have 
come by a very direct route, though he had moved 
so slowly, for these men were going straight over 
the ground from whence he had just come, and it 
was reasonable to suppose that they knew the near- 
est way to the stronghold. It instantly occurred to 
him that these men would come upon the wounded 
robbers, and he might soon find that he had them to 
deal with also. Then he reasoned that these men 
would think that he must naturally take the short- 
est and straightest road down the mountain, and 
would follow in that direction, so that if he turned 
aside as he had proposed to do, he should perhaps 
throw them off the scent, at any rate, for a short 
time. So Walter and Marion bore along the moun- 
tain side in a line which did not carry them much 
nearer to the plain, but on the opposite side, toward 
the city. Still they did descend gradually as they 
progressed. 

When they should approach the plain a little 
nearer, as we have said, he expected to have to 
fight his way ; he knew that his greatest risk lay 
there. He had ten shots left in his revolvers, and 
made up his mind to slay without mercy, to keep 
cool, and under whatever exigency, to make every 
shot tell. 

He even instructed Marion to let no one touch her, 
but if they attempted to do so, to strike them to the 
heart with the dirk-knife which he Ifad given her. 
She was a brave-hearted girl, but she could not help 
asking herself, when he thus charged her, “Could I 
strike this weapon into a human being?” 

They now took an extra period for rest, ate the re- 
mainder of their food, and prepared to make the 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


123 


last stage in their perilous iourney, every instant 
fearing lest they should be captured. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A SECRET VAULT. 

Armed with a search-warrant, and accompanied 
by two officers of the local police, the English detec- 
tive knocked at the door of Alberto Corrello’s palace 
and demanded entrance. 

Fortunately for the peaceable transaction of the 
business which brought them there, the master was 
absent, a fact which the detective was pleased to 
know, though he had come prepared to execute his 
warrant at any cost. At first he led the way to the 
small court-yard in the rear of the palace, and kick- 
ing away a small accumulation of rubbish, there 
was at once disclosed an iron trap-door, set in a 
framework and locked securely. It was hidden in 
the most careless manner, but as no one was ad- 
mitted to the rear of the establishment, it was doubt- 
less secure enough. 

Means were soon found to open this trap-door, and 
the officials descended a long, narrow stair- way of 
stone extending under the palace, where they came 
to a second iron door, much more difficult to open 
than the first had been, but which finally yielded to 
their experienced fingers. This second door ad- 
mitted them into a subterranean room, with a stone 
floor and heavy walls of the same material. No 
daylight could enter here. It was low and damp, 
but the lanterns brought by the party soon discov- 
ered, to their astonished eyes, its use. 

This underground apartment was the receptacle of 


124 


IVIEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


stolen goods, and upon wooden tables here and there 
were assorted valuables, such as watches, iewelry 
of various kinds, and precious stones. By private 
marks, with which he had been made familiar, the 
detective identified a large amount of the valuables 
which had been stolen from the store of Woolf & 
Co., the jewelers, in the Strada St. Carlo. To this 
fact he especially called the attention of the local 
police officers, who were with him, and who, now 
that the game had been successfully run to earth, 
became suddenly very officious in their conduct and 
talk. 

A careful inventory was at once taken of these 
various goods, at least, so far as was practicable to 
do so at a first discovery, and on a brief visit. The 
amount of accumulations was surprising, the goods 
from Woolf & Co.’s store forming but a small por- 
tion of the whole. Undoubtedly here would be found 
the key to unlock the mystery of other local burg- 
laries, half -forgotten now. The police could hardly 
believe that this depository for stolen property could 
have so long existed under their very eyes, as it 
were, and still remain a secret. The English de- 
tective was willing to let them take any amount of 
credit for the present discovery. He was not a vain 
man, but he had his own objects in view. 

This vault was in itself a subject of much interest 
to the detective. It was not a modern structure, but 
had doubtless been formed at the time of the erec- 
tion of the palace itself, more than a century ago. 
At that period such families as the Correllos often 
had secret dungeons constructed within their walls, 
not for the purpose of securing valuable treasures, 
but rather for the confinement of human beings, po- 
litical prisoners and the like. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


125 


As regarded the passage connecting this vault 
with the outside of the palace, that was evidently of 
a very modern construction. This passage robbed 
the vault of all usefulness as a place of confinement, 
since it would but facilitate the escape of a prisoner, 
while at the same time it very much enhanced its 
value as a secret hiding-place for stolen property, 
since it was not necessary to enter the palace to 
reach it. 

The possession of such a resort was the greatest 
safeguard possible for a guilty person, for property 
once placed here was as securely hidden or nearly 
so, as though it had been deposited at the bottom of 
the Mediterranean itself. No one would suppose the 
existence of such a hiding-place beneath the Corrello 
palace, even if they suspected the honesty of its 
master. 

The pretended old woman, who had lost her par- 
rot, made a more important discovery than she had 
expected, when she tossed about the rubbish in the 
rear yard. The moment that trap-door was seen the 
hunt for the parrot had ceased. Not a bird’s nest, 
but a burglar’s nest was the result of the examina- 
tion. 

This subterranean chamber was accessible also by 
an iron door from the palace above. 

During these examinations, Beppo, the man-ser- 
vant who has several times been spoken of in the 
course of our story, showed by his honest surprise 
that he had known nothing of these matters. The 
trap-door in the rear yard was a source of profound 
amazement to him. His master’s guilt was plain 
enough to the officers now, but as to Beppo, he could 
not believe his own senses. 


126 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


‘‘You have never known of this passage?’^ asked 
one of the officers of him. 

“Never.’’ 

“Your master is a very extravagant person. How 
did you suppose he raised the means to live thus and 
support such expenditures?” 

“It was none of my business,” said Beppo, “and I 
never thought about it.” 

“There was a story about a pot of gold,” suggested 
the detective. 

“Yes. I have often heard about that,” replied 
Beppo, very honestly. 

“Where is your master?” 

“He said he was going to Monaco.” 

“For what?” 

“I have heard there is a grand Casino there for 
gambling, and master, you know, plays.” 

“Yes, you are right.” 

“The place is called Monte Carlo,” said the detec- 
tive. 

The officers then consulted together for a few mo- 
ments, and finally, after putting the government 
seal upon the doors, and leaving one of their number 
on guard at the palace, they retired to report the 
case to the proper officials, and await further or- 
ders. The English detective, on the way to the gov- 
ernment office, called at the store of Woolf & Co. to 
give his special employers some knowledge of their 
missing property. 

The authorities were ready to attend to so import- 
ant a matter at once, and the detective was sum- 
moned before them without delay. 

“How came you first to suspect Alberto Corrello?” 
asked the leading official. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


127 


“The white powder acted as a trail, and stopped at 
his gates,’’ was the reply. 

“Ah, we had heard of that. Who first discovered 
this Trail,’ as you call it?” 

“I first noticed it. After that I followed and 
watched Alberto Corrello, and found that without 
any visible means of support, he had unlimited 
gold.” 

“A suspicious fact.” 

“One day I managed to get into his rear yard, on 
a simple pretext, and as it was the nearest point to 
where the trail stopped, I examined it.” 

“And there found the trap-door?” 

“Exactly.” 

“All this is very plain business now, since your in- 
genuity has worked the matter to its present is- 
sue,” said the official. 

Proper officers were dispatched to the secret vault, 
and the goods of various kinds were transported to 
the government rooms, where they were taken 
proper recognizance of. The palace itself was then 
searched, especially the apartments immediately oc- 
cupied by Alberto Corrello himself. Here, in secret 
closets built within the walls, and so hidden as to re- 
quire the most careful search to find them, was dis- 
covered an elaborate system of disguises, relating to 
nearly every station in life, and designed to repre- 
sent either sex. 

A great variety of the best weapons were also dis- 
covered here — pistols, knives, dirks, and short rifies 
for horsemen’s use, with repeating arms from Amer- 
ica and England, of the latest and most effective 
manufacture. His apartments were a private ar- 
senal in themselves. It seemed almost impossible 
that one man could have accumulated such a com- 


128 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


plete cabinet of tools, weapons, false keys and dis- 
guises, for the purpose of successful villainy. It 
must have been the consummation of years. 

The man Beppo had at once been taken into cus- 
tody, not that he was believed in any sense to be 
guilty of complicity in his master’s misdeeds, but 
partly as a witness and partly that he might not be 
able by any means to communicate with the absent 
criminal, and thus enable him to escape the arrest 
that awaited him on his return to the Corrello pal- 
ace, now in the hands of the police. 

He who had been able to carry on unsuspected the 
double character which was now manifest, was too 
shrewd in his villainy to trust any one needlessly 
The man Beppo, who had so long acted as a sort of 
body-servant to Alberto, was a very simple-minded 
fellow, selected by his master, perhaps, on that very 
account. He was one who had infinite fear and re- 
spect for his master, and would have been the last 
to suspect him of any unlawful acts. Though he was 
regular in the last degree in his own habits, the ir- 
regularities of his master as to his hours of outgoing 
and incoming were unheeded by him, or were attrib- 
uted to his amours and gambling engagements. He 
had often wondered in a simple and curious way 
how his master had found exit from and ingress to 
the palace, as he had chanced to know that he must 
have done, without calling upon him in his capacity 
of porter. He now saw very clearly that the trap- 
door in the yard had been regularly and constantly 
in use. That it could have existed at all upon the 
premises, and not be known to a person of the house- 
hold in his situation, was a fact in itself going far to 
prove his hopeless stupidity. 

Thus it was that the most thorough and elaborate 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


129 


examination of this man could elicit no evidence 
against his master. 

Alberto Corrello, however, could not have carried 
on his schemes entirely unassisted. Ingenious and 
self-reliant as he was, he must have had one or more 
confederates on whom he could rely. It was clear 
enough that he was not one to put himself into the 
hands of others, by the manner in which he had 
avoided trusting Beppo, but still he could not have 
accomplished single-handed, it was believed, even 
the robbing of the jewelers’ store in the Strada St. 
Carlo. 

Of course, this was a very important point to de- 
cide, and the clerk who had slept in the store on the 
night of the robbing was re examined. 

This man was seized so suddenly, and on awaking 
from a sound sleep, that he could hardly say posi- 
tively whether there was one or two robbers in the 
store. One only stood over and tied him, telling him 
that the least movement on his part would cost him 
his life, and gagging him instantly. There was no 
conversation loud enough for him to hear one word 
distinctly, yet he thought at times he heard voices, 
while he was compelled to lie tied and covered be- 
neath the bed-clothes. The fact was, as is generally 
the case in such instances, the man’s terror at the 
time almost incapacitated him for the clear exercise 
of his senses. 

He remembered hearing the robber or robbers lock 
the rear door of the store, as they finally left it. 

“Why did you not mention that at your first ex- 
amination?” he was asked. 

“It did not come to my memory until long after- o 
ward,” he replied. 

On Beppo being called for further examination, 


130 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


the fact was elicited from him, by the ingenious in- 
quiries of the detective, that the story of the pot of 
gold was really started, years ago, by Alberto him- 
self, and through his servant given to the street gos- 
sips. The simple-minded Beppo could not at first 
have told how the idea originated, but by placing 
facts in juxtaposition, it became plain enough that 
the story was ingeniously devised and set afioat as a 
‘‘blind.” It had served exactly the purpose designed. 
The Neapolitan gossips required something to oc- 
cupy their tongues when referring to Alberto, and 
the pot of gold was just the thing. Besides it ac- 
counted for the possession of certain means which 
might otherwise have caused troublesome notice. 

Matters were kept as quiet as possible, and the 
discovery of the secret vault and its contents was 
said nothing about in public. The police were on 
the watch for the return of the guilty principal, and 
therefore avoided publicity until he should be ar- 
rested. But they did not rightly judge their man if 
they supposed that he was not at once informed of 
all that transpired in his absence. In three hours 
after Beppo’s arrest, Alberto knew that his own 
guilt had been discovered, and he governed himself 
accordingly. The officers might have spared them- 
selves their guard over the Corrello palace. The 
bird had flown. 

Equally fruitless was the excursion to Monaco by 
the police, in hopes to meet the culprit there, at the 
tables of the Casino, at Monte Carlo. The mention 
of his proposed visit to that famous gambling hell 
was a mere blind to cover two or three days’ absence 
in some other direction, which he desired to keep 
secret. It was found that he had not been at Monaco 
for a period of months, though he did visit the 


MEZZONI THE BBIGAND. 


131 


Casino at times, and was, indeed, when present, one 
of its heaviest players. 

It was found, after the lapse of three or four days, 
that the police must look elsewhere for their game, 
and from certain indications they became convinced 
that Alberto was informed of all that took place from 
day to day. It was a subtle and dangerous charac- 
ter which they had unearthed, by means of the se- 
cret vault. They realized that when found and 
brought to bay he would be a dangerous man to 
finally secure. 

“The man who succeeds in arresting him will be 
promoted,’’ said one officer to another. 

“If he lives!” was the answer. 

“There is danger in the arrest of any guilty 
party,” continued the first speaker. 

“Alberto Corrello will not quietly give up his lib- 
erty. He will sell his life dearly.” 

“All the more credit in the arrest, then,” replied 
the other, who assumed an indifference which he 
did not really feel. 

The importance of the affair had begun to make 
its impression at headquarters, and the police were 
on the alert. 


132 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER. 

The English detective seemed to be sleepless. He 
had been cognizant of Signora Amadeo’s first visit 
to Alberto Corrello, and had followed her to her 
home as closely as the count had done on that nota- 
ble occasion. 

He had known of that hostile meeting of the two 
men behind the park at Capodimonte, and had in- 
deed witnessed that duel from a secure hiding-place. 
He could not interfere — he had no right to do so — 
but he was gaining all possible information concern- 
ing a man whom he suspected. He knew that there 
was some secret tie connecting the countess and Al- 
berto, but what that tie was, of course, he could not 
divine. 

He was perhaps the only person in Naples who 
thought that the Count Amadeo’s death was of a 
very sudden and suspicious character. 

These impressions kept the detective thinking day 
and night, and kept him also on a double watch. He 
saw Alberto, as we know, visit the countess on that 
occasion when she had sent for him after their cor- 
respondence. He was very sure that there was some 
intrigue between them. 

‘Tt only carries out the old saying,” said he, “that 
there is notjiing calling for our services that has not 
a woman somewhere concerned in it.” 

The English detective, therefore, after having 
done all that was possible in securing the goods of 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


133 


Woolf & Co., for which business he had been 
brought to the city of Naples, now, on his own ac- 
count more especially, was watching the movements 
of the countess. She had been very restless for a day 
or two, hurrying hither and thither, but making no 
sign he could take hold of. It was very natural. 



LITTLE DID THE LADY KNOW WITH WHAT LYNX- 
EYES SHE WAS BEING WATCHED. 

under the circumstances, that he should connect this 
nervous activity of the Signora Amadeo with the 
absence of Alberto, but what her interest was, 
whether as a confederate, or as anxiety for her 
lover, he could not satisfy himself. 

Little did the lady know with what lynx-eyes she 



134 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


was being watched, how every movement was 
scanned and duly weighed. 

Whatever the connection might be between Al- 
berto Corrello and the countess, the detective felt 
instinctively that if he desired to obtain possession 
of the former he must watch the house of the latter. 
He was certain, long ago, that Alberto’s means of in- 
formation kept him so informed that he knew his 
own palace was not a safe place for him to resort to, 
though he had hard work to convince the local 
police of this. Still the palace was carefully watched, 
lest the boldness of the man might bring him back 
for a special purpose. 

Of course, the detective could not watch a party 
both day and night. He required sleep like other 
people ; so he employed a trusted agent during most 
of the day, while he secured the necessary modicum 
of repose, but during the night he was a vigilant, 
though unsuspected watcher of the Amadeo palace. 

It was on the fourth night since the discovery of 
the secret vault that the detective, while himself se- 
creted in an opposite building, saw a man, just after 
midnight, enter the gates and afterward the palace, 
which he had so long and so patiently watched. 

This man seemed to be about the size of Alberto 
Corrello, but if it was the culprit, he was yet so 
thoroughly disguised, as to puzzle the experienced 
and watchful officer. He certainly seemed to be ex- 
pected, and was admitted immediately. The detec- 
tive crept near enough to see his face by the bright 
moonlight. The man wore a slight mustache, too 
light and thin, the detective thought, to be false ; 
his hair was short, and apparently of an iron gray 
hue, and his clothes, not of the Neapolitan cut or 
style, but rather French in appearance. He seemed 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


135 


to be a little slimmer than Alberto, and yet the de- 
tective felt as though it must be he. 

He hastened at once to the headquarters of the 
night police, saw the presiding official, who knew 
him very well by this time, and after making his er- 
rand known, asked for a warrant to enter the Ama- 
deo palace, and also for the assistance of ^three good 
men, who could be relied upon in any emergency. 

He would not commit himself by saying that the 
man he had seen enter was Alherto Corrello, but he 
was willing to take upon himself the risk of an ar- 
rest. He had a warrant duly executed for the guilty 
man, but he had no authority to enter the palace of 
the late Count Amadeo. 

‘'Though this is somewhat unusual,’’ said the night 
prefect, ‘T shall give you the warrant and the men, 
as you have heretofore shown yourself to be judi- 
cious and correct.” 

“At once?” said the detective. 

“Immediately.” 

“Else our bird may be flown.” 

“There shall be no delay.” 

“Let us be off, then.” 

Three good and tried men were at once detailed to 
accompany the detective, who, armed with the 
necessary warrant, soon hastened back to the spot 
he had just left. On the way he explained his plans 
to the men, and told them that they had no common 
rogue to deal with. Their purpose was to arrest, not 
to kill ; if they struck, it must be to disable, not to 
take life — that was to be spared to the last. There 
was a handsome reward offered for the arrest of the 
thief of Woolf & Co.’s store. If this was Alberto 
Corrello, as he thought, they would divide the re- 
ward equally among them. 


136 


IVIEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


“Now let there be silence and promptness/' he 
said, as they neared their destination. 

While the police are preparing to play their pro- 
fessional part, we may look within the Amadeo pal- 
ace for a moment, and see how the stranger who 
entered here was received. 

“Signora." 

“Alberto!" responded the countess. 

“You received my message?" 

“Yes; you were expected. " 

“Do you remember that I told you, signora, I was 
a criminal?" 

“I do." 

“And now despise me?" 

“I love you the more since you require my aid," 
she replied. 

“It was necessary that I should return for a few 
hours, and I knew no other asylum." 

“It needs no apology ; whatever the chance that 
brings you to me it is welcome." 

“Ah, signora, your devotion deserves better return 
than I can accord." 

She gave him her hand, which he pressed to his 
lips, while at the same moment she exclaimed, step- 
ping one side anxiously : 

“Hark!" 

“Ay, some one is on the stairs," he said quickly, 
and feeling for his weapons. 

“Here, hide in my chamber." 

“Is there nowhere else?" he asked, hesitating in 
that critical moment to compromise her. 

“Quick— quick," she said, thrusting him within 
the door, and closing it after him. 

It was none too soon. 

The next moment the door of the ante-room was 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


137 


Opened without ceremony, and she found herself con- 
fronted by the officers of the law. 

“What does this mean?” she asked, indignantly. 

“Signora, we must search your rooms,” said the 
detective. 

“By what authority?” 

“That of the law.” 

At the same moment a window was heard to open 
within the chamber, and the detective springing 
past the countess, burst open the door, and entered. 
One officer had been left in front of the palace, on 
the street, the other two had come up with him. As 
he entered the chamber he saw the form of a man 
preparing to leap out of the window. Seizing him 
by the arm, a struggle at once took place, and the 
man, now plainly seen to be Alberto, fell into the 
room, but the detective was under him. The Italian 
resorting to the national weapon, the dagger, struck 
at the officer’s heart, but fortunately gave him only 
a severe flesh wound. It was deep enough to disable 
him for a moment. 

All this had taken place so quickly that the other 
officers had not even entered the room, but coming 
upon the scene of action now, they discovered Al- 
berto just lowering himself from the window, and at 
the English detective’s order, one of them fired his 
revolver after him, while the other rushed down 
stairs to intercept the fugitive when he should make 
his exit upon the street. 

“Are you seriously hurt?” asked the officer who 
had fired at the retreating man. 

“No, no, hasten outside, follow him,” said the de- 
tective, getting upon his feet. 

The countess, in the meantime, hearing the strug- 
gle in her chamber, and the report of fire-arms, had 


138 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


sunk in terror upon the floor, wringing her hands 
in agony, and having no doubt that Alberto had been 
shot dead upon the spot. 

The window of the countess’ chamber was at least 
fifteen feet from the ground, and opened upon a 
rear court. Alberto had dropped himself to the hard 
flagstones or pavement, and turned to fly at the 
very moment the pistol was fired after him. Chance 
favored the culprit. He got a ball in his left shoul- 
der, and for a moment was staggered, the next he 
dashed away, and over a low stone wall which sepa- 
rated the court-yard from a back street. This street 
was inaccessible from the front of the palace and the 
pursuers lost time in discovering the fact. 

However, by adopting the same means improved 
by the object of their pursuit, they were soon upon 
his track, though he was out of sight. 

“There is blood here,” said one of the officers, as 
he surmounted the wall. 

“He got your ball then,” said the detective to the 
man who had fired from the window. 

“Yes; and here’s more tracks of blood.” 

The tracks continued to appear, plain enough to 
follow by the light of the moon. 

A moment more and they came to quite a pool of 
blood ; the culprit had paused here for some reason, 
and looking carefully about them it became appar- 
ent that he had entered a shelter on the side of the 
street formed by a stone archway. They plunged in 
after him, the first of the officers receiving a shot 
which brought him to the ground and caused the 
others to pause. They were still two to one, but he 
was a desperate man and they hesitated. They 
could not see where Alberto really was in the dark. 

They raised their companion, who was insensible. 


MEZZONI THE BBIGAND. 


139 


and were carrying him away when the English de- 
tective came up, weak from the loss of blood and 
from pain, but as plucky as a bull-dog. He told them 
to follow him, and he hastened forward to the stone 
arch. 

Without pausing for a moment he rushed into the 
entrance of the archway, as he did so stepping sud- 
denly to one side, for he expected to draw the fire of 
the man who was now at bay. His calculation was 
correct, for the moment he appeared at the en- 
trance Alberto fired at him, but as he did so the de- 
tective’s change of position saved him. The shot, as 
was anticipated, discovered the culprits’ position, 
and the three men were upon him in a minute. 

It was an exciting moment. 

He was quickly dragged toward the entrance, but 
another man was disabled by his dagger before he 
was got there, and the detective also felt that his 
own strength was rapidly failing him at this crisis. 
He therefore cocked his revolver and prepared to 
fire as his last resort, when Alberto making a sud- 
den spring struck down the only unwounded man, 
leaped over his body, and disappearing down the 
dark and narrow street was quickly beyond their 
reach. 

“What a devil to handle,” said the officer, whose 
head had been severely cut by his heavy fall upon 
some projecting stones. 

“He fought like a wild cat,” said the detective. 

“But how are our friends?” 

The man who had been wounded by the fugitive’s 
dagger now crept forward covered with blood, but 
able to walk. Others of the police force having been 
attracted to the spot by the pistol shots, all were 
finally got to the police headquarters, though in a 


140 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


sorry plight. Their story caused great excitement. 
One of the men had got what would doubtless prove 
a fatal pistol wound, a second was dangerously 
stabbed in the side, the detective had a severe flesh 
wound and was weak from the loss of blood, while 
the third officer had a bruise from his fall which dis- 
abled him. 

How seriously the fugitive was hurt they could not 
tell. They only knew that he had bled profusely, 
though his strength had by no means deserted him 
at the very last of the encounter. 

“You should have shot the man at the outset,’’ 
said the impulsive prefect. 

“Our warrant was for arrest,” said the detective, 
quietly. 

“Very true, and you were to use the necessary 
means to accomplish it.” 

“We take life only as the very last resort in my 
country,” was the reply. 

“No doubt that is the best as a rule, but I don’t 
like to see my men all disabled.” 

“He won’t escape again,” said one or two officers, 
significantly. “They would shoot him at sight.” 

The authorities were puzzled, in this condition of 
affairs, how to proceed in relation to the Countess 
Amadeo. No guilt was traceable to her. The fact 
of her harboring Alberto for a brief moment consti- 
tuted no crime, as he had not up to that time been 
declared amenable to the law. She had not resisted 
the officers who entered her house at midnight, and 
up to the present hour certainly no lady in Naples 
had a more unsullied fame. 

Her position was one which they did not like to 
assail lightly. Her social grade had been very high, 
and her late husband had been in the receipt of dis- 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


141 


tinguished honors from the throne. Of course, the 
gossips of the town would get hold of her name in 
connection with the desperate business of the pre- 
vious night — that could not be avoided. The count- 
ess’ anxiety as it regarded her personal safety was 
entirely uncalled for. She might expend all of her 
sympathy upon her unworthy idol. 


142 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


CHAPTER XV. 

RUNNING THE GANTLET. 

The reader will remember that we left Walter 
Hammond and Marion Bray on the mountain side, 
just about to perform the most hazardous part of 
their trying journey. 

The two rough-looking men who passed near to 
them, but who did not see them, and whom Walter 
feared might fall in with the wounded robbers, were 
really members of the band who had been engaged 
in performing some day duty in the neighboring val- 
leys, under the guise of vine-dressers. 

They had been for some time absent from the cave, 
as he had never seen them before, and they were 
now on their way thither. In a short time after pass- 
ing the fugitives, these men came upon the two 
wounded brigands. They were hurriedly informed 
of the whole affair, and taking the rifles of their 
invalided companions, they started back, with 
great confldence, to overtake the fugitives. The 
change of their course, from a direct descent of the 
mountain to a more lateral one, was now of great ad- 
vantage, as Walter had hoped, for the new pursuers 
were at once thrown off their track, and in half an 
hour after their start were heard calling to each 
other far below where the fugitives were, and just 
in the old line which they had been pursuing. 

“How fortunate that we changed our course,” 
said Marion. “You think of every thing.” 

“Providence is on our side,” said Walter, gayly, 
“but we will ‘keep our powder dry.’ ” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


143 


“It will be night soon/’ continued his companion. 
“Then you cannot see your compass.” 

“The night will be a favorable cover for us, at 
least, and then we have the north star.” 

“And that is almost a compass.” 

“It is.” 

“The moon will not be up until late.” 

“About midnight,” he answered. 

At this juncture they came to a sort of open space, 
or plateau, upon the mountain side, not unlike that 
in front of the robbers, and though they paused here 
but for a single moment, yet it was long enough, un- 
fortunately, for those two men who were below them 
to get a glimpse of their figures. Walter also saw 
them distinctly, and knew that he should soon have 
to fight them. He hurried Marion along, getting 
among the rocks once more, and did not hear from 
his pursuers for some time. When he did hear from 
them again, and learn of their whereabouts, it was 
so near to him that he instinctively pulled his com- 
panion behind a rock, and instantly prepared to take 
a shot at the nearest man. He did not hurry in 
taking his aim from his covered position. It was all 
important that he should not miss. So he was es- 
pecially cool and careful at this moment. The rough 
fellows did not know that they were so near the fugi- 
tives, and the first intimation was a shot from Wal- 
ter’s revolver, sending a ball through the thigh of 
one of them, and bringing him to the ground at 
once. The other man, utterly confused, did not 
know where the shot came from, and he also, half a 
minute later, got a ball from Walter’s revolver, 
probably in a vital spot, as he instantly threw up 
his arms, with a loud cry, and fell upon his face. 

Marion saw this, and almost fainted, turning as 


144 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


white as death, and staggering to the rock for sup- 
port. She was being fearfully tried. 

“Come, let us hasten on our way,’’ said Walter; 
“time is very precious to us.” 

“How terrible all this is,” whispered the trembling 
girl. 

“Self-defense, Marion,” was all he said, almost 
lifting her away. 

“I have but eight charges left,” he continued, as 
he examined his pistols. 

On, on they struggled, and the night was nearly 
come again, but they did not pause for the rest they 
both so much needed. They were now just in the 
region where they were liable to meet friends of the 
banditti at any moment. 

“Can you keep on, Marion?” 

“I will try,” she said. 

“It seems cruel to urge you on,” he said. 

He looked in her face and saw that it was neces- 
sary to give her a brief halt, and so he sought the 
shelter of some rocks, and found a resting place for 
the foot- weary girl. Walter himself had been taxed 
to his utmost, for oftentimes he was compelled to 
assist her over dangerous and abrupt declivities by 
an exertion of his greatest strength. They were de- 
scending the mountain on the opposite side from that 
by which the ascent had been made, and, as we 
know, the path followed by them had been many 
times farther than that pursued by the robbers with 
the Sedan chair. Indeed, a Sedan chair could not 
have passed by the way they had come. 

Only a brief rest was permitted ; they dare not 
lose a moment of time. Walter knew not how soon 
the whole band might be notified and sent after 
them. Every moment of progress was immensely 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


145 


important to their safety, so they were soon strug- 
gling on again. 

Now and then little patches of vine-clad slopes be- 
gan to appear, with occasional olive trees, and spots 
of rudely cultivated land, among the volcanic soil. 
Once or twice they came upon some spot near to a 
habitation, where bright and fragrant flowers had 
been planted by some woman’s hand, showing that 
a latent appreciation of the beautiful was still extant 
among some of the rough people who struggled for 
a precarious living in this half-desolate region. 

One or two small cabins, dimly lighted, were now 
descried and carefully avoided by the fugitives. 
Doubtless the people in all these humble abodes 
were in complicity with the brigands, and Walter 
knew that just here they were running a regular 
gantlet of dangers. But they kept close as poss- 
ible, and were silent, except that now and then their 
feet would loosen a stone, or piece of rock-lava, and 
set it rolling down the mountain side. Marion clung 
closely to the arm of her gallant guide. 

Suddenly the angry baying of a dog struck upon 
the watchful senses of the fugitives. He had heard 
them, and was following in their path with a sure 
animal instinct. Walter paused for a single mo- 
ment, thoughtfully, to make up his mind how to 
meet the on-coming beast. 

“Give me the dirk-knife, Marion.’^ 

“What for?” 

“I cannot spare a shot.” 

“Must you kill the dog?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can’t you frighten him away?” 

“Not so easily done. These dogs are dangerous, 
and not kept for playmates.” 


146 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


“Perhaps lie won’t see us.” 

^‘Oh, yes; he’s more dangerous than a man in pur- 
suit,” said Walter. 

“Why so?” 

“His instinct is unwavering, and never at fault. 
It will lead him straight to us.” 

“I hear him still coming this way.” 

“Straight as an arrow.” 

Walter was correct in his surmise; the dog was 
already close to them, and was doubtless followed 
by a pursuing party. Hardly had he seized the dirk- 
knife and taken off his jacket, which he quickly 
wound round his left arm, when the dog bounded at 
him. He was a heavy mongrel, a cross between a 
wolf hound and a mastiff ; his large mouth opening 
to a most amazing capacity, and showing fangs of 
deadly power. 

Walter was ready for him, and receiving the ani- 
mal upon his protected arm, with his right he liter- 
ally ripped open the creature’s bowels, from one end 
of his body to the other, planting the keen dirk blade 
up to the very handle. All was over with the poor 
creature ; he was almost cut in two, and of course 
instantly dropped in the agonies of death. 

The fugitives were indeed running a gantlet of 
dangers. They were now coming upon an easier 
footing, and moved faster. 

“It is easier walking here,” said Walter, panting 
just a little from his exertion and excitement in 
dealing with the dog. “Let us hasten on.” 

As he did so he cleansed the dirk in the soil at his 
feet, and returned it to the sheath. 

“Take it, Marion,” he said, “the weapon has done 
us faithful service.” 

They had got but a short distance from the spot 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


147 


where the dog had attacked them, when they heard 
probably his master and another man come up to the 
spot, and also their Italian oaths at the dog’s fate. 
As by the sound of their voices they seemed to re- 
treat, Walter thought it most likely that they had 
gone back to their cabin to procure fire-arms, de- 
signing then to pursue them. But he had seemingly 
got hardened to the situation now, as, notwithstand- 
ing his fatigue, he laughed at the idea of these 
mountaineers joining in the effort to capture them. 

It was a hysterical laugh, however, for tough and 
hardy as the young Ameircan was, the strain of 
anxiety on Marion’s account, the several encoun- 
ters, and the great bodily fatigue were beginning to 
tell seriously upon both body and mind. He had al- 
ways been a brave and hardy youth, very strong 
and enduring, but he had never been so severely 
tried before, as he had been within the last twenty- 
four hours. His system must have been of iron not 
to exhibit some symptoms of yielding. He had only 
to look at the fair young girl by his side, however, 
to nerve him to any daring for her sake. 

“How strange that laugh sounded, Walter,” she 
said, coming closer to his side, and laying her hand 
gently upon his arm. 

“A little nervous, Marion, that is all. You must 
excuse me.” 

“Poor Walter,” she continued, looking into his 
eyes, “you have been terribly tried!” 

“It is a little rough, I admit,” he answered, half- 
exhausted at last. 

“And all for my sake.” 

“Ah, that’s the redeeming feature,” said he, 
brightening up. “You shall see no more weakness, 
Marion.” 


148 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


‘^You are only too brave and daring, Walter,’’ she 
added, nestling to his side like a child. 

They now found to their great satisfaction that 
they were coming down much nearer to the city than 
they had anticipated, and could see the lights dis- 
tinctly in the distance. Both felt elated, though they 
knew that they were by no means out of danger. 
Every step they advanced brought them, they felt, 
nearer and nearer to final safety. 

“Hark,” said Walter, “I hear some one in ad- 
vance of us, l am confident.” 

“Yes, a rough and scuffling tread.” 

“That is iust it.” 

“There, I hear it again.” 

“It is close ahead.” 

Now came another trying experiencein this gant- 
let of dangers. A shadow was seen in the path be- 
fore them, and soon the figure of the man who 
caused it. Walter thought instantly that he recog- 
nized that burly and rough form. Could it be? Yes, 
it was the brigand Vecchio, with whom he had been 
engaged in the stand-up fight, and whom he had so 
thoroughly whipped at the mountain stronghold. 
The gang must have returned sooner than had been 
expected, and were probably already dispersed in 
search of the fugitives. 

Both men recognized each other instantly, and 
both knew that one or the other must now pay the 
forfeit of his life. 

Not a word was spoken by either for more than a 
minute, during which the two looked each other 
sternly in the face. 

“Do you surrender?” said the brigand. 

“Never.” 

“Then die!” said Vecchio, with a look of hate 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


149 


upon his face, and firing the pistol square at Wal- 
ter’s breast. 

But quick as the robber had been in his move- 
ments, he was no more prompt than was the young 
American, who pulled the trigger of his revolver at 
the same instant. The men were so near together 
that the concussion of the two weapons would have 
been sufficient, or nearly so, to throw them . to the 
ground. At any rate both fell, with this difference, 
that the bandit did not rise again, while Walter 
Hammond was on his feet in an instant. He felt the 
blood trickling down his arm, though he said noth- 
ing about it, but hastened past the dying Yecchio, 
only urging his frightened companion to greater 
speed. 

As he passed the robber’s body, the man who 
had been shot through the breast and lungs, fal- 
tered out : 

‘T believe you are the devil!” 

But Walter did not pause to bandy words, saying 
only to himself, as he pushed forward : 

‘T have seven shots left.” 

‘‘This I take to be the outskirts of Eesina,” said 
he, a moment later. “If so, and we can hire a con- 
veyance, we may reach Naples by midnight.” 

Marion’s face brightened with hope. 

Fortune seemed to favor them entirely, for a few 
moments later they found a market man, with a light 
vehicle and a small tub of vegetables, on his way to 
the city, driving leisurely along, knowing very well 
that he had ample time to reach his destination be- 
fore the dawn of day. 

The moon was now dazzlingly bright, rendering 
every object more than distinctly visible. 

Walter stopped the man, and told him that it was 


150 


MEZZONI THE BEIGANH. 


important for him and his companion to get to Naples 
immediately, and that he would give him two gold- 
en louis if he would throw out his vegetables and 
thus make room for them in his cart, and drive at his 
best speed toward the city. The man looked sus- 
piciously at him for a moment, then said : 

^‘Let me see the gold.” 

“Here it is.” 

“That is good money?” 

“Yes.” 

“I will do it.” 

“One louis when we get to the Porta del Carmine,” 
said Walter, “and the other when we arrive at the 
Strada St. Carlo.” 

“Agreed,” said the man. 

“Let me help you,” said Walter. 

In five minutes from the time that the fugitives 
had stopped the market man, his hamper of vege- 
tables was deposited by the road-side, and the parties 
were spinning over the level way toward the city. 
Though his hopes rose with every rod of progress, 
still Walter felt that he was dealing with a foe who 
knew every foot of the way, and who knew also the 
best means of intercepting their flight. He was not, 
therefore, satisfied that he had yet completed the 
gantlet of danger. He feared that the robbers 
would have placed one or more men well on to the 
road to Nalples, as a final spot where to intercept 
them, should they not be taken before reaching it. 
He was therefore as watchful as ever, and even car- 
ried one of his revolvers in his right hand for instant 
use. 

It was already past midnight, and Marion was so 
entirely worn out with fatigue and excitement that 
she slept with her head resting on Walter’s shoulder 


MEZZONl THE BRIGAND. 


151 


and her form supported by his encircling arm. He 
had managed to bind a handkerchief over the flesh- 
wound of his left arm, and it was not particularly 
painful, though it had been considerably at first. 

The market man’s horse was fresh, and a very 
good one, so that they made capital progress over 
the smooth and well-macadamized road. 

The brigands were accustomed to all sorts of con- 
tingencies and the proper mode to meet them, and 
so, as Walter had anticipated, they had actually 
sent forward one of the band and stationed him as 
near as practicable upon the road to the city walls, 
to intercept the fugitives provided they should suc- 
ceed in reaching that point. So Walter now discov- 
ered a man but a short distance in advance of them 
by the side of the road, whom he felt sure was one 
of the band. The next- moment this man called out: 

“Halt, or I Are!” 

“I will,” exclaimed the terrified driver, preparing 
to stop his horse. 

“If you do I will shoot you,” said Walter to the 
market man, showing him a pistol. 

At the same moment, possessing himself of the 
whip, he struck the horse several sharp and rapid 
blows. The animal sprang forward with high spirits 
into a swift gait, just as a pistol ball whistled by the 
ears of the fugitives. 

The brigand who had been posted at this spot was 
only armed with pistols — he had no rifle — and Wal- 
ter knew that they could almost instantly get out of 
range of that weapon. The driver also was nothing 
loth to put all possible space between himself and 
the danger behind. 

Another shot followed, but as it was fired while the 
robber was running, it flew wide of the aim he had 


152 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


taken. Walter glanced behind them for a moment, 
undecided whether he should answer the shot, but 
he saw that they were gradually dropping their pur- 
suer, and thought that it was not necessary, though 
he still held his trusty revolver ready in his hand for 
instant service. 

Every stride of their spirited little horse brought 
them nearer and nearer to Naples. 

During the last attack, Marion, who had thus far 
held her courage with wonderful strength of will, 
had at last fainted. It was the first time she had 
shown extreme physical weakness since they left 
the cave in the mountain. At first, Walter Ham- 
mond was startled by the idea that she was wounded ; 
but her unconsciousness lasted for a moment only, 
and she soon revived, clinging to him with child- 
like trust. 

‘‘House up, dear Marion, rouse up, we are just at 
the entrance to Naples.” 

“Thank Heaven,” she whispered. 

“You are not hurt?” 

“Oh, no, only exhausted.” 

“No wonder — no wonder,” said her companion, 
still supporting her with his arm. 

“How kind you are, Walter.” 

He reached over her, and for the first time pressed 
his lips to her forehead. She did not rebuke him ! 
Did she not owe him life itself? 

The stout little . horse bore them in by the Porta 
del Carmine, and the driver received his first piece 
of gold. Ten minutes later they stopped before the 
police station, in the Strada St. Carlo, and were 
safe. The driver received his second louis, and an 
extra one to console him for his fright on the way. 

They had successfully run the gantlet. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


153 


CHAPTER XVI. 

ESCAPE FROM PRISON. 

The profession of a detective leads him to become, 
if he is true to his instincts, a lover of justice. The 
man who had been brought from Scotland Yard, 
London, to act in this capacity, in the interest of 
Woolf & Co., was well known for his marvelous 
skill and determination of purpose, and an under- 
lying love for the punishment of crime. As has al- 
ready been intimated, he more than suspected foul 
play on the part of the Countess Amadeo, as re- 
garded the sudden illness and death of her husband 
so soon after the duel with Alberto Corrello. He had 
successfully consummated the principal object of his 
visit to the Neapolitan capital, but still he did not 
like to leave before Alberto should be arrested. In- 
deed there was another purpose also which he had 
in view, but he did not wish to say anything about 
that at the present time. 

Being thus situated, the detective determined to 
‘ Vork up” the case of the countess as she was so 
intimately connected with the men whom he had de- 
nounced. He, therefore, put himself in communi- 
cation with the authorities upon the subject, and as 
the matter was one growing out of his legitimate 
business, they concluded to let him take his own 
course in the affair, and to afford him all the requis- 
ite authority to legalize his acts. 

This again opened the field to the English officer, 
and gave him a fresh start. 

The detective had a double object in pursuing this 


154 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


mystery ; first a pure love of justice and attachment 
to his peculiar calling, and secondly, he hoped that 
he might in some way, through the countess, once 
more get upon the track of Alberto Corrello to whom 
he felt that he owed a small debt for the wound in 
his side. This memento of the daring and most des- 
perate man, had been just troublesome enough to 
keep the cause of it pretty constantly in the officer’s 
mind. 

The English detective now visited the palace of 
the Amadeo family in a very quiet manner, and 
in his own persuasive way, requested and secured 
an interview with the signora. Of course this was 
not willingly granted, but finally conceded, as it 
were, upon compulsion. The countess was a singular 
combination of courage and cowardice, of pride and 
humility. 

Guilt had rendered her very timid just now, and 
the detective read this in her face the instant they 
met. Indeed the signora did not know but that he 
had come upon the matter of her husband’s death to 
arrest her, and it was this suspicion that caused her 
expression of fear. The detective was very quiet 
and undemonstrative. 

' ‘Signora,” he said, “you have received a com.- 
munication from Alberto Corrello since his escape.” 

“You say so.” 

“Of course you know where he is.” 

“I do not.” 

“You are quite sure?” 

“I do not know where he is, and if I did I would 
not tell you,” she answered, stoutly. 

“Possibly,” said the officer. 

He had not known, but had suspected, that she had 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


155 


heard from Alberto. His suspicions were now con- 
firmed. He now changed the subject. 

“There is one other matter of which I would speak 
to you,” he said, looking her full in the face. 

“Well?” 

“You have in your private cabinet, at this mo- 
ment, a vial of poison.” 

“What do you say?” exclaimed the countess, rising 
to her feet in surprise. 

“A vial of poison,” repeated the detective, with 
perfect composure. 

“Who says so?” 

“I have just said it, signora.” 

“It is false.” 

“Falsehood is useless.” 

“I have no poison.” 

“We will look for it together,” he continued, as he 
rose quietly and proceeded toward her chamber, 
where that severe struggle with Alberto had taken 
place. 

“You have no right in my apartments,” she said, 
hastening after him. “I will ring for my people.” 

“As you please. But I thought we might arrange 
this matter between ourselves without any unpleas- 
ant publicity. Servants will talk.” 

She hesitated. 

will thank you to observe this warrant,” said 
the detective, showing his authority. 

“There is a conspiracy against me — a conspiracy,” 
she repeated, wringing her hands. 

“Oh, no, signora. Let us make this business as 
quiet as possible.” 

“What shall I do?” 

“Give me the vial.” 

“No!” 


156 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


must have it.’’ 

He walked toward the chamber, followed by the 
countess, who, hurrying past him, put her back 
against a cabinet in one corner of the room, thus at 
once exposing the very locality which the detective 
sought. 



‘‘oh, ‘NO, SIGNORA. LET US MAKE THIS BUSINESS AS 
QUIET AS POSSIBLE. 

“I have hit the nail upon the head,” said he to 
himself ; “it was a flier, but it was to the mark.” 

Walking up to the countess, as she stood there be- 
fore the cabinet, he said : 

“You are too much of a lady not to know how 
much better it is to do these unpleasant things 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


157 


quietly, than to add unnecessary publicity to them 
by resistance. Please hand me the key.” 

As he made this demand he looked her full in the 
eyes, and to his surprise she complied doggedly. 

“Thank you,” said the detective. 

He then proceeded at once to open the cabinet, 
where, after a few moments’ examination, he dis- 
covered a vial of colorless liquid, about one-third 
full, without any label upon it, but with a black 
cross mark, made evidently with pen and ink upon 
the cork. At this moment the countess, suddenly 
awakening, as if from a dream, and apparently 
realizing the damning character of this evidence of 
her guilt, attempted to seize it from the hand of the 
officer, but he promptly disposed of it in his breast 
pocket. 

“How much of this article, signora, did it require 
to kill the count?” asked the detective with the 
most perfect coolness. 

“The count, the count,” she echoed, as she now 
staggered to a chair for support. 

“Yes, signora.” 

“I said there was a conspiracy to—” 

“Not at all. You will give me the information 
and thus avoid publicity.” 

“No publicity, no publicity,” she repeated. 

“We will keep all quiet.” 

“Quiet,” she again echoed. 

“Was the count cruel to you, signora, that made 
you poison him?” 

“Poison him,” she said, as though she were in a 
sort of trance. 

The detective was puzzled. Was she already de- 
ranged? She seemed to make no effort at evasion 


158 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


now. She acted as though she were talking in her 
sleep. 

“Where is Alberto?’’ she asked, suddenly, think- 
ing she might unconsciously betray his secret. 

“Ha! Alberto, where is h 3?” she repeated. “Al- 
berto, where is Alberto?” 

“Where did you get this poison, signora?” contin- 
ued the detective. 

‘ ‘ Poison ! ” she echoed. 

The officer saw that she was in a hysterical condi- 
tion, and it was useless to interrogate her further. 
So he summoned a servant, told her that her mistress 
was not well, and left the palace for the office of the 
prefect of police. Here he gave the information 
which he had gained, and the vial of poison was 
handed to a chemist to he analyzed. Steps were also 
taken to have the body of the late Count Amadeo ex- 
humed, and an autopsy was ordered to be made. 

It did not require long to substantiate the fact of 
poisoning, with the means already at hand, and on 
the following day the Countess Amadeo was arrested 
and conducted to prison. 

The tongues of the Neapolitan gossips were now 
very busy ; the present certainly seemed to be a har- 
vest time with them, and wonder upon wonder, and 
marvel upon marvel were daily being brought to the 
light. Here was Alberto Corrello turning out to be 
a burglar, and the Countess Amadeo a murderess. 
What next was to astonish the public of Naples? 

Little was now talked of but the absent Alberto 
and the imprisoned countess. The police believed 
that the wounded man must be secreted somewhere 
in the city, and a systematic search was in progress, 
though from prudential motives it was, of course, 
kept as secret as possible. 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


159 


Now that the law officers had the evidence of guilt 
in their possession relating to the death of the Count 
Amadeo, they only wondered that so clear a case 
had not excited suspicion instantly among all those 
interested in the deceased. The whole was as clear 
and plain as the light of day ; even a trial in court 
would be a mere formality. The local papers de- 
tailed the case, announcing the whole by a sensation- 
al heading thus : 

“Have we a Lucrezia Borgia among us?” and ex- 
pressing unlimited wonder as to the possible motive 
for the commission of the diabolical act. 

The case of Alberto Corrello was also wrought up 
to the highest point of romantic interest by the press 
writers. His guilt was made plain to be sure, but a 
halo of romance was thrown over all that would 
lead one to half sympathize with the culprit. The 
fact really was, however, that beyond the one 
chivalrous and disinterested act of shielding the 
countess from her husband, and which the public 
knew nothing about, Alberto was actuated by no 
noble instincts, and was no more nor less than a 
thief and burglar whose career had been one of suc- 
cessful crime for a series of years, incited principally 
by an all-absorbing passion for gambling. 

It was after the countess had been incarcerated a 
couple of days that the sentry on duty at the outer 
portal of the prison suddenly found himself gar- 
roted, gagged and tied before he could utter an 
alarm. This was about two o’clock in the morning. 
Not a word was spoken, but a man with a drawn 
dagger was left to watch the sentinel, while six 
others entered the prison. Here a second guard was 
overcome in a similar manner, after which the 
leader of the party proceeded with keys, secured on 


160 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


the Spot from the jailer, who had been surprised in 
bed, to a certain cell, and in five minutes the count- 
ess was outside of the building, mounted on an easy 
but swift horse, and the party rode away at full 
speed. 

Not until the guards were relieved, an hour later, 
was the escape discovered, when the men were un- 
tied and the gags taken from their mouths, while the 
jailer was released from a similar condition. Com- 
plicity was not charged upon these delinquents, but 
stupidity and neglect were, for which they were pun- 
ished. It would seein almost incredible that such an 
act could be performed, yet these were the facts. 
The authorities had no means of knowing of a cer- 
tain golden fee which had made all comparatively 
easy. 

Here was a fresh theme for the gossips, and more 
rewards were offered for the arrest of the guilty 
parties. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


161 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A HERO AND HEROINE. 

Colonel Manlius Bray had suffered intolerable 
anxiety during the necessary delay between his re- 
turn to Naples and the receipt of the funds to enable 
him to pay for the release of his daughter from cap- 
tivity. Though he had faith in the robber’s word, 
still in his nervous and very natural anxiety he 
imagined all sorts of troubles as being the hourly ex- 
perience of his child. 

His astonishment cannot be adequately described 
when he was awakened from sleep, on that morning 
before daylight, and beheld both his daughter and 
Walter Hammond. They had come directly from 
the police station, in the Strada St. Carlo, where the 
market man had left them. Walter had taken the 
precaution to stop first at the police headquarters to 
give information of their escape and to suggest the 
possibility of pursuit, even within the city itself, so 
bold were these brigands. 

The two fugitives presented a singular appearance 
when the colonel first looked upon them, and he 
rubbed his eyes again and again, scarcely believing 
that he was actually awake. His daughter was in 
male attire, and so travel-stained and soiled as to be 
scarcely recognizable, while her companion, who 
naturally had a heavy beard, had been unshaven 
for weeks, looking more like an escaped convict 
than a gentleman. Until this very moment the 
father had thought that Walter was gone to Amer- 
ica, which also added greatly to the mystery of the 
whole affair. 


162 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


However, here was his dear Marion, so long lost, 
alive and well, though haggard with fatigue. 

“Escaped and well; that is enough for the pres- 
ent,” said the excited father. “Now, Marion, your 
room has been kept for you, just as you left it on 
that sad day; go and rest and refresh yourself, 
and,” continued the colonel, “get rid of these shock- 
ing clothes.” 

“I intend to keep these always,” she said; “they 
have indeed served me faithfully.” 

“So you shall, my dear, so you shall,” said the 
colonel, kissing her fondly. 

“But, father, we owe everything to Walter; it is 
the second time he has rescued me.” 

“At the risk of his own life, too,” said the old sol- 
dier, grasping Walter’s hand. 

“How about that ransom, colonel?” asked the 
young American, smiling. 

“It was to be ready this very week, after a world 
of trouble.” 

“We are in time to save that little sum,” said 
Walter. 

“Ample.” 

“That is some satisfaction,” he continued, “though, 
do me the justice to believe, that the dread of your 
daughter’s being in those villains’ hands for so long 
a time, entirely unprotected, was what drove me to 
the mountains.” 

“I know it,” said the colonel, while Marion took 
Walter’s hand and held it tenderly. “But no more 
now. I will not ask you one single question until 
you have slept and entirely recovered yourselves.” 

“Good-night, father,” said Marion, as he embraced 
her affectionately. 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


163 


“Good-night, Walter,” she said, putting both of 
her hands in his. 

“Good-night, dear Marion,” he said, looking 
fondly into her loving eyes. 

It was not until the expiration of nearly tw:enty- 
four hours that the two fugitives awoke from their 
long and refreshings sleep, when it seemed almost 
impossible for them to appease their ravenous appe- 
tites. The bath and fresh clothes changed them so 
entirely that it was difficult to believe them the same 
individuals who stood together before the colonel so 
lately. Marion, when she met Walter, clothed as 
she now was in her appropriate costume, blushed at 
the memory of the figure she must have presented, 
far more than she had done when she was dressed 
in that robber’s suit. 

As to Walter, could this handsome and neatly- 
dressed young fellow, now pressing her hand so 
fondly, be the rough-and-ready sailor who had so 
successfully fought their way down the mountain 
side, and conducted the English girl in safety from 
her fearful bondage to the brigands? 

Marion Bray, notwithstanding the hardships she 
had endured, was the picture of health and beauty. 
Her complexion was a little browned, but as Wal- 
ter carefully noticed, the color was fresh and clear, 
and her expression bright and happy. 

The colonel listened to the startling details of his 
child’s escape from the banditti, the story sounding 
more like a romance than like facts, yet it was 
literal. 

“These robbers have received a bitter lesson at 
your hands,” he said to Walter. 

And so it proved, for, as was afterward known, 
one of the first two pursuers, who had partaken of 


1G4 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


the sleeping draught, died of his wound before he 
reached the cave, while the fore-arm of the other 
was shattered and useless for life. Of the second 
two, who took up the pursuit, one was seriously 
wounded in the thigh and lamed for life, while the 
other, whom Marion saw throw up his hands and 
fall on his face, was shot through the heart. 

The bully of the gang, Vecchio, did not live to tell 
the story of his encounter with the young American. 
Three of the robbers thus lost their lives, and two 
were maimed for life. The severest check they had 
met with for years, and all through the cool courage 
of one man. 

“What was your most trying exigency?’’ asked 
the colonel of Walter. 

“It was where, I presume, you would least think,” 
he replied. 

“And that was?” 

“With the dog.” 

“How so?” 

“I had never used a knife upon a living thing, and 
it quite unnerved me for a moment.” 

“ISTo wonder,” said the colonel. 

“I have been accustomed to the use of a pistol, 
but not the knife!” 

“Your training has served you well.” 

“Oh, father, it was horrible, though, to see those 
men fall when Walter fired,” said Marion. 

“It was in self-defense, my child.” 

No secret was made of the deliverance of the Eng- 
lish lady from the brigands’ cave, and the papers 
made quite a hero and heroine of the two, giving to 
Walter Hammond the credit which was so justly 
his due, for the very trying and well-managed es- 
cape from the banditti. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


165 


The English detective was one of the first to call 
upon Walter, after the announcement of his escape, 
seeking various and minute information of him re- 
lating to the outlaws, and the cave they inhabited, 
besides freely expressing his admiration of his 
bravery and skill. At his solicitation Walter wrote 
out some minutes of localities and the topographical 
character of the mountain. 

“Did you ever see Mezzoni?’’ asked the detective. 

“Never.’’ 

“I can find no one who has.” 

“Nor I,” said Walter, “that is, I could get no de- 
scription of him. ” 

“He’s a myth with nearly every one.” 

“I begin to doubt if there be any Mezzoni.” 

“I do not,” said the detective. “The organization 
of those brigands is too complete to be the work of 
any of those common banditti. There is a mystery 
about the matter that I should like to see unrav- 
eled.” 

“Mezzoni did not come to the cave while I was 
there.” 

“You have taught them a bitter lesson.” 

“I was too handy with the pistol to suit them.” 

“No doubt of that.” 

“I have telegraphed to stop the forwarding of those 
funds,” said Colonel Bray to the young American, 
“and now I have a proposition to make to you.” 

“What is it, colonel?” 

“Come with us to England.” 

“I shall be delighted to do so.” 

“At once?” 

“Yes,” replied Walter, “if the authorities have 
done with me. But you know that they notified me 


166 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


to give them information of my proposed departure.’’ 

‘'‘Yes, as a witness.” 

“I presume so.” 

“Won’t an affidavit answer?” 

“I will see.” 

“Ho! for merry England,” said Marion, delighted. 

While this conversation was taking place, or 
rather at the moment of its close, Walter received a 
summons to the government office signed by the 
prefect, to which he at once responded. 

Arriving in the Strada St. Carlo he was shown the 
body of a man who had been found murdered upon 
the road just this side of Resina, and which he was 
able to recognize as the market man who drove them 
to Naples. 

This was a part of the brigands’ pitiful revenge. 
But beside that body lay another which had been 
found by the vine-dressers of the hills. It was the 
mortal remains of Vecchio. Walter’s affidavit re- 
lating to these bodies was duly taken. 

He could not but mark the different expressions of 
the two faces, as they lay there in death. That of 
the market man, though he doubtless suffered severe 
pain before the last breath, yet looked calm and 
peaceful, almost child-like. Vecchio’s features, on 
the contrary, were distorted, an evident frown being 
noticeable on the brow, while the lower features 
were drawn and rigid. 

The bullet from Walter’s revolver had passed 
quite through his body, just below the heart. The 
market man had been stabbed in the back by a dirk, 
doubtless the cowardly perpetrator of the deed com- 
ing up unobserved from behind. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


167 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

MEZZONI UNMASKED. 

In introducing real personages and actual events, 
an author feels some delicacy as to giving names ; 
and it should be so. Still the well known visit of 
Mr. Bush, of Scotland Yard, London, to Naples in 
1871, and the complete success with which he 
crowned that remarkable experience, need give no 
cause for reticence in relation to his name. That 
famous officer and detective has too widespread a 
distinction in his arduous profession not to be 
known among the police of all nations. 

The famous discovery of the secret vault, and the 
prompt recovery of nearly the whole of the property 
stolen from the store of Woolf & Co., in the Strada 
St. Carlo, were solely due to his- personal skill and 
perseverance, and would alone have made the repu- 
tation of any detective. Highly accredited, he was 
received by the local authorities with kindness and 
respect, and afforded facilities which had never be- 
fore been accorded to any foreigner by the Neapoli- 
tans. No spirit of jealousy was permitted to inter- 
fere in the least with his operations, and he met with 
no opposition from any source on that score. 

In his report to the home department, Mr. Bush 
especially referred to these agreeable facts. 

Partly in recognition of this courtesy, and also for 
reasons which will ultimately appear, Mr. Bush held 
a consultation with the heads of the local police of 
the city, and proposed to lead an expedition which 
should break up the headquarters of the famous 


168 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


brigands who were under the leadership of Mezzoni. 

He had obtained such elaborate information from 
Walter Hammond as to make him very confident of 
success ; such knowledge had never before been in 
the possession of the authorities, and he had great 
faith that, with a proper co-operation, he could fer- 
ret out this national pest and possibly secure the per- 
son of the leading bravo himself. 

To accomplish this he demanded ample assistance, 
and the control of the movement, so far as it could 
be properly delegated to him. 

He was especially encouraged by the manner in 
which his proposal was received, and it was with 
very little delay that he was finally informed that 
the authorities would accede to his desires. He was 
to perfect his plans at once, and after laying them 
before the department he would be given such aid as 
he required to carry them out successfully. This he 
anticipated, as he had been met in a similar spirit at 
all points. 

The detective had such confidence in the young 
American that he tried in all manner of ways to in- 
duce him to accompany the expedition to the rob- 
bers’ stronghold. But the fact was that Walter Ham- 
mond had no object to subserve that would compen- 
sate for the risk which he would encounter by com- 
plying with the detective’s wish. 

‘T had rather have you with me than a dozen 
Neapolitan soldiers,” said the detective. 

“Too much to risk without an object,” was the re- 
ply. “These villains know me now.” 

“You have given them serious reason.” 

“Just so; and I should be a target, therefore, for 
their best marksmen,” said Walter. 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


169 


“Perhaps you are right. They would be very apt, 
if we came to a fight, to single you out.’’ 

“I know I am right; revenge is one of their car- 
dinal principles,” he replied. 

“I have great confidence of success with these 
items of information you have supplied.” 

“Take plenty of men with you.” 

“I shall.” 

“And be sure of one thing,” said Walter, seriously; 
“you must give no quarter. These men are as 
treacherous as our American Indians.” 

“I fear that mercy is thrown away upon such 
scoundrels. They fight us, as it were, with halters 
about their necks, and are desperate men.” 

“They will show you and your party no mercy, 
you may depend upon that.” 

“True, the risk is considerable,” said the detective, 
“but you know it is distinctly incident to my profes- 
sion.” 

A whole company of the soldiers was detailed, 
composed of over seventy men, for this special ser- 
vice. By request of the detective no one but the 
head of the department was to know what this ser- 
vice really was, for he was thoroughly convinced 
that the brigands had means of information which 
would enable them to partially thwart the enterprise, 
unless the utmost precaution was observed. To ren- 
der his movements as secret as possible, the first ad- 
vance was to be made after nightfall, and the sol- 
diers were to meet him at Eesina, so that he should 
not be in any way identified with their movement 
until they were out of the city proper. 

The enterprise had been carefully prepared, and 
as far as possible every contingency guarded against. 

Arrived at the base of the mountain a patrol was 


170 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


thrown out to prevent any one from ascending at 
the several points where passage was possible, and 
with orders to arrest any one who should attempt to 
escape from the gang above. These orders were 
brief and decisive. In case of the least resistance no 
mercy was to be shown — they were told to shoot 
down the fugitives at once. The men were also in- 
cited to extra effort by the promised reward, which 
the captain reminded them of. 

These precautions having all been carefully per- 
fected, the command was divided into three parties 
of equal numbers, who ascended the mountain at 
three known passes, with such preconcerted signals 
as should enable them to concentrate upon any one 
point in case of necessity. They were to halt for two 
hours’ rest at midnight, provided they met with no 
interruption to their progress up to that time, then 
they were to draw together at a designated point, 
and hurry forward, so as, if possible, to surprise the 
banditti a little before the break of day. These ar- 
rangements were excellent, provided nothing hap- 
pened to interfere with their proper consummation. 

The organized force was enabled, by thus taking 
the open paths, to travel over three times the space 
which Marion and Walter had accomplished in the 
same period of time. Besides this the men were all 
fresh and prepared for their work, which was per- 
formed as systematically as though on parade. 

The starting of the expedition just at nightfall was 
the crowning cause of its successful progress. If it 
had gone out during the hours of the day its purpose 
would have been at once divined, and spies would 
have informed the robbers in much less time than 
the troops could possibly have moved. Under such 
circumstances the purpose of the whole movement 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


171 


would have been frustrated. But as it was, no spies 
had been on the watch to report the movement of a 
force at such an unusual hour, and hence the expedi- 
tion met with no obstacle on the route. 

The plan thus far worked like machinery, and the 
men entered into the spirit of the business with 
marked individual interest. 

It was just about half an hour before daylight 
when the three sections of men joined each other, 
about sixty in number, and prepared for the last ad- 
vance upon the robbers’ stronghold. Not a voice 
was heard. The strictest silence had been enjoined, 
and the command moved stealthily upon its way 
through the rough path. Arms were carefully ex- 
amined, and instructions reiterated to one and all. 
The gray of the morning was just appearing in the 
east as the foremost men came upon an outlying 
sentry of the gang, who was asleep with his back to 
a rock. 

He was instantly seized, and told that if he opened 
his mouth to give an alarm he should die. A mo- 
ment later, however, he tried to do so, for which a 
dagger was struck to his heart in an instant, and 
his body cast to one side as though it had been that 
of a dog. He had not anticipated such summary 
treatment, and his recklessness had cost him his life. 

His voice had not been raised sufficiently to reach 
those at the cave, where another of his comrades 
was sleeping at his post, and so he also was secured 
with equal promptness, his mouth being adroitly 
covered so that he could not utter a sound. At the 
same time the whole force was quietly deploying 
upon the plateau, without so much as awaking a 
single sleeper inside the cave. The place was vir- 
tually at the mercy of the attacking party. 


172 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


The man who had been on guard at the entrance 
of the cave struggled hard at first, but when he got 
his eyes fairly opened, and saw the number of the 
attacking party, he gave up quietly, for he knew 
that resistance was useless, and would only cost him 
his life. The men being now all prepared, and the 
light sufficient, concealment was no longer of any 
consequence, and a dozen men with ropes, handcuffs, 
and dark lanterns, rushed suddenly into the cave, 
the whole party led by the detective. He had se- 
cured a plan of the interior, carefully drawn by 
Walter Hammond, so that he knew just where to 
turn in his first dash to secure the body of the rob- 
bers. 

A few shots were necessarily exchanged, but to no 
avail, or with no very serious result. The blaze of 
the dark lanterns thrown into the very eyes of the 
half -awakened banditti only served to dazzle and 
confuse them, and as their assailants had been in- 
structed just what to do, and how to do it, there was 
little confusion. There was hardly one of the band, 
after ten minutes had transpired, who was not se- 
curely ironed, and when one proved at all trouble- 
some his legs were also tied tightly together until 
resistance entirely ceased. 

So complete a surprise and capture could hardly 
be realized even by the captors themselves. 

In the meantime the detective had entered the 
officers’ quarters, where the lieutenant was seized 
and ironed after a little resistance, which cost him a 
bayonet wound in the side, and his second officer 
was treated in the same manner, except that, prov- 
ing still more troublesome, he was knocked sense- 
less with the butt of a musket. Here also was found 
lying upon a bed of better construction than the 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


173 


rest, a man evidently suffering from serious illness, 
his room shut off by a temporary partition. In 
another similar division, near by, was found a bed 
containing two women. 

These last were informed that so long as they re- 
mained quiet they would not be interfered with, but 
any attempt to rise until they were ordered to do so, 
would result in their being handcuffed and secured 
like the rest of the band. 

The lieutenant was then brought to the entrance 
of the cave, and there interrogated by the detective, 
at the same time being told that there was no possi- 
bility of escape for any of the gang. He was in- 
formed also that he might mitigate his own situa- 
tion, as it regarded the future, by giving whatever 
information was required to expedite matters. He 
was not desired or expected to criminate himself, or 
his companions, but simply, to facilitate present 
movements for the convenience of all. 

This man was of far more than ordinary intelli- 
gence, and taking a correct view of the situation, he 
realized that every man of his command had been 
captured, and that no disguise or stratagem could 
possibly avail anything. He accepted the position, 
and wisely answered the questions put to him. 

“Who is the sick man within there?’’ asked the 
detective, to commence with. 

“Our captain.” 

“Mezzoni?” 

“Yes.” 

“What is the matter with him?’ 

“He has fever.” 

“What fever?” 

“Arising from a gun-shot wound.” 

“Where are your treasures?” 


174 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


‘‘What treasures?” 

“The result of your robberies.” 

“Oh, they are taken charge of by the captain. We 
do not know,” was the honest reply. 

“Do you mean to say that your captain, Mezzoni, 
takes all the booty to himself?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is that the truth?” 

“I shall not take the trouble to tell you a false- 
hood,” replied the robber. 

“How do the men like that sort of division of the 
booty?” asked the officer. 

“It is according to agreement. They are regu- 
larly enlisted and paid like these soldiers of the gov- 
ernment, only th,ey are paid ten times as much. 
How could they dispose of the booty? They would 
betray themselves upon the first operation. No. 
Mezzoni arranges those matters.” 

“Ah, I see; they are so well paid that they are 
satisfied at the share they receive.” 

“This explains much to me which has been a mys- 
tery heretofore,” said the captain of the soldiers to 
the detective. “It is important information.” 

“Do those women inside belong with the band?” 

“One does; she is stewardess. Her husband is the 
man who is tied and handcuffed yonder.” 

“Who is the other?” 

“I do not know.” 

“How came she here?” 

“By Mezzoni’s orders.” 

“Held for ransom?” 

“Oh, no.” 

“We have secured twenty-three men in the cave — 
is that your whole force?” 

“All at this point.” 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


175 


‘‘This is the headquarters?’’ 

“It is.” 

At this moment the guard, who had been secured 
at the mouth of the cave, succeeded when unob- 
served in getting off his handcuffs, and leaping upon 
a rock beside the plateau, dropped himself off its 
edge, a distance of nearly thirty feet, to a ledge be- 
low, and thence climbed along, dropping again and 
again from one rock to another of the precipitous 
side. With great dexterity he avoided presenting 
himself as a mark for the soldiers’ bullets above 
him. In five minutes the man was entirely out of 
sight, and unless he should be captured by the patrol 
below, he had actually made good his escape. The 
only one of the gang who did so. 

The lieutenant of the robbers had spoken truly as 
to there being no treasure at the cave. With the 
exception of a great variety of fire-arms and ammu- 
nition, and a fair supply of provisions, there was 
nothing there. The arms were carefully secured and 
a guard left upon the spot to await further disposi- 
tion of affairs, while preparations were made to 
march the captured brigands at once to prison in 
Naples. There were twenty -two of them, and be- 
sides being securely handcuffed, they were so tied 
together in couples that escape was rendered nearly 
impossible. The guard was ordered, however, to 
shoot down the first one who should attempt it. 

All the preparations were made with the utmost 
care, for the officers knew very well that they had 
desperate men to deal with, and it was even feared 
that the escaped robber might bring some outlying 
friends of the gang to attempt a rescue. If this were 
to occur, both the captain and the detective had re- 
solved to shoot down the prisoners without mercy. 


176 


MEZZONI THE BKIGANB. 


Mr. Bush, the detective, had been examining the 
interior of the cave with lanterns to satisfy himself 
as to the property there, and to look for any hidden 
or secret places of deposit. He found in a hanging 
closet, in the sick man’s room, a series of disguises, 
and among the rest a mask so constructed as to fit 
exactly to the flesh, and, indeed, appearing to be the 
natural skin of the wearer. Beneath the left eye of 
this mask he observed a scar, painted in so in- 
genious a manner as to perfectly represent a healed 
saber wound. 

“Yes, yes,” said the detective, to himself, “I have 
heard of this scar more than once.” 

He carefully secured this mask and took it along 
with him when he left the cave, as an important 
item of evidence against the leader of the outlaws. 

“Who is there?” said a feeble voice from the bed. 

“One whom you have met before,” was the reply 
of the officer, as he approached the sick man. 

“Ha! shoot him!” he cried, as he fell back ex- 
hausted. 

“You are no longer dangerous,” said the detect- 
ive, as he looked upon the sick man. 

“Only see that he don’t get out of bed until or- 
dered,” said the officer to the soldier left to guard 
him. 

The invalid, weak to the last degree, had said 
nothing during the time of the capture, and had, in- 
deed, been lying in a sort of comatose state all the 
while. His arousal was but momentary at the pres- 
ent time, and he said no more. 

It was quite a problem with his captors how best 
to dispose of him, for they could not make up their 
minds to leave him behind. He was the grand 
offender of the whole gang, and their victory would 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


177 


be quite incomplete if they were to return without 
him. But while they were in this quandary the de- 
tective found the Sedan chair which had been used 
to convey Marion Bray up the mountain side, and 
arrangements were then made to take the sick man 
back to Naples by this means. 



“who is there?’’ said a feeble voice from the 

BED. 

The stewardess was instructed to assist him in 
dressing, and as Mezzoni had become partially 
aroused to consciousness, this was a much easier 
task than had at first been anticipated. The chair 
was brought out to the entrance of the cave, and 
four of the stoutest of the soldiers were detailed to 


178 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


bear it, arrangements being made to give them oc- 
casional relief. 

The women were also bidden to prepare them- 
selves to descend the mountain with the rest of the 
party ; none but a few guards to be left behind, but 
in sufficient strength to hold the cave. 

The detective, experienced in such matters, had 
been very busy in satisfying himself that the prison- 
ers were all carefully secured beyond the possibility 
of escape, when the lieutenant of the robbers asked 
him: 

“Who was that man who came among us dis- 
guised, and carried off the captive girl.^’' 

‘ ‘ W alter Hammond. ’ ’ 

“English or American?’’ 

“American.” 

“I could have sworn that he was an American,” 
said the brigand. 

At that moment the captain of the robbers was 
brought out of the cave, almost too weak to stand. 
As he was being put into the Sedan chair the detect- 
ive came to his side, and, after a moment, ex- 
claimed : 

“I thought so! Mezzoni and Alberto Corrello are 
the same 1 And this woman is the Countess Ama- 
deo!” 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


179 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE LAST STRUGGLE. 

One of the first acts of the police, after the arrest 
and incarceration of the brigands, was to send a 
few trusty men into the mountain, and after remov- 
ing all the valuables, fire-arms and the like from the 
robbers’ cave, to blow it up with gunpowder, leav- 
ing not a vestige of the villainous den, not one stone 
upon another. This was, as afterward appeared, 
the headquarters of the organization extending to 
the northern range of the Apennines, and its break- 
ing up was considered of immense importance by 
the government. 

An official examination of the secret vault in the 
Corrello palace showed that complete means existed 
there for melting down gold and silver articles into 
mass, a necessary process before attempting to dis- 
pose of stolen manufactured goods. There was also 
found to be a sort of well in one corner of the vault, 
into which the most unavailable and yet valuable 
articles had been deposited for the time being, in- 
tended, no doubt, to form a resort when other re- 
sources should at least fail to be productive. 

Great sensation was caused by the success of the 
authorities in breaking up the den and arresting the 
brigands, who had so long been the terror of Naples 
and its environs. The government, without waiting 
for a trial, for once showed its promptness, and 
awarded the heavy sum which had been offered for 
the arrest of Mezzoni. This sum was apportioned to 
the satisfaction of the detective, the officers, and the 


180 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


men who had accompanied the successful expedi- 
tion. The sum received by the worthy and able Mr. 
Bush, in addition to that paid to him by Woolf & 
Co., really amounted to a small fortune to one of 
moderate desires. 

The trial of the countess for the poisoning of her 
husband afforded a topic for the Neapolitan gossips 
of rare and continued interest, until she was found 
guilty and condemned to imprisonment for life. 
Since her arrest, a return of the peculiar condition, 
in which the detective had once seen her, was visi- 
ble. She seemed like one walking in her sleep, and 
growing worse from day to day, she was finally re- 
moved from the prison to an insane asylum. Here 
she soon after died without having recovered her 
realizing sense at all. 

Poor misguided, passionate woman! She reaped 
as she had sown. 

Alberto Corrello and Mezzoni, as the detective 
finally discovered, were one and the same, but a pro- 
tracted career of successful villainy was at last 
closed. It was no longer surprising that the brig- 
ands had been so well informed of all that transpired 
within the city, for the bravo, who acted as his own 
spy, was constantly in the very midst of such occur- 
rences as he desired to note. In his double charac- 
ter, and possessing a remarkable faculty for disguis- 
ing himself, almost in an instant, he was a most 
adroit and intelligent villain. 

The true story of this famous brigand will ever 
form a romantic page in Italian history. 

He was tried and condemned to death, but was re- 
manded to prison and allowed one month to prepare 
for execution. There were those in Naples who knew 
Alberto sufficiently to express the confident opinion 


MEZZONI THE BEIGAND. 


181 


that he would never die upon the gallows. This was 
also the remark of the English detective to the local 
authorities, relative to the man he had captured. 

Glad to get away at last from those tragic scenes, 
Colonel Bray, with Marion and Walter Hammond, 
returned to England, where the young American be- 
came quite a lion in consideration of his gallant ad- 
ventures. He was already the chosen one of Mar- 
ion’s heart, and the old colonel, though he disliked 
to part with his only and well-beloved child, yet 
when asked for her hand by Walter, said: 

“You have won the right to demand her hand, my 
dear boy, and sorry as I am to lose her, still I am 
proud to say she is yours!” 

“I will try to take good care of Marion.” 

“No one more able,” was the reply. 

As to Marion and Walter, they had settled matters 
between themselves long ago. 

“Our bridal trip shall be to America, Marion.” 

“Just what I should like.” 

“And when shall it be, dearest?” 

“Just when you please, dear Walter.” 

“Then let it be at once;” and so it was consum- 
mated. 

Happy Marion I Happy Walter! Their trust and 
reliance upon each other had been tested in an or- 
deal of fire. Their future lives were destined to be 
passed in quiet and serene bliss. 

But we must once more, in the closing lines with 
the reader, revert to vivid scenes. 

It wanted about a week yet to the day appointed 
for the execution of Alberto Corrello, when the jailer 
of the prison where he was confined, on going his 
usual rounds in the morning, found to his amaze- 
ment, that the brigand’s cell was empty. Entering 


182 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


it at once, he discovered that the prisoner had 
worked his way by patient labor and the ingenious 
hiding of the debris, which was necessarily created, 
through the thick stone wall, and had undermined a 
second and another wall, whence he had made his 
escape. 

It was very evident at a glance that this work 
must have been in progress for many days. The bird 
had indeed flown. 

The alarm was given at once, no time was lost, the 
police being sent in all directions to seek the adroit 
and daring criminal. 

From certain indications it was apparent that the 
flnal departure from the prison had been effected 
very recently, and the fugitive was easily tracked 
toward the waters of the bay, whither he had first 
directed his steps. After pursuing him into several 
hiding places in the humblest section of the town, 
which adjoins the water, he was at last discovered 
just embarking in a boat, pulled by a couple of men. 

With the quarry in sight, the chase begun in real 
earnest. 

Four policemen were soon in one of their boats and 
following, but the robber had got a fair start of 
them, and was far out in the bay before they could 
make any perceptible gain upon him. The heavy 
police boat did, however, gradually lessen its dis- 
tance from that containing the fugitive. 

‘‘He cannot have any fire-arms?” said one of the 
officers to another. 

“Most likely not,” was the reply, “but he has 
probably got a knife. 

“Yes, he would be sure to secure some weapon, 
and that he could get the easiest.” 


MEZZONI THE BKIGAND. 


183 


‘‘He knows how to use a knife/’ continued the 
other, “as we have seen.” 

“Let us give the fellow no chance this time,” was 
the reply. 

The two men who were at the oars in the robber’s 
boat were undoubtedly incited by extraordinary 
promises of reward, for they were pulling toward 
the island of Capri at a marvelous speed, and with 
wonderful endurance. The police boat had four 
oars, the other boat two, yet the former being much 
the heaviest could gain but slowly upon the latter. 

“If he should land at the island before us, the ras- 
cal has some dodge, by which he expects to escape 
us. He has confederates there perhaps,” said an 
officer. 

“Depend upon that,” said another. 

“But he must not land,” said a third. 

“Not if I can get within pistol range of him,” 
said he who had first spoken. 

The two boats had now got barely within hailing 
distance, but no attention was paid to the loud or- 
ders of the officers. The two oarsmen who had pulled 
the robber’s boat must have been his devoted 
friends, for the mere anticipation of pecuniary re- 
ward could not induce them to run so serious a risk. 
The officers could now hail the boat distinctly. 
Capri was close at hand — that shore was the robber’s 
only hope. Once landed there he might secrete him- 
self, or find such friendly assistance as would protect 
him from his pursuers. 

The distance seemed still too far for a pistol shot 
to tell. One moment more and the first officer, who 
had been standing ready, said : 

“I will try it.” 

And a shot whistled after the boat containing the 


184 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


fugitive, but it certainly did no harm, except to in- 
cite the oarsmen to renewed exertion. 

“Try once more,’^ said one of the officers to the 
one who had just fired. 

A second discharge, but the boatmen pulled on as 
before, still unharmed. 

The brigand sat quietly in the bow of the boat, evi- 
dently encouraging his companions now and then 
by an earnest word. He was perfectly cool. If he 
could land upon Capri, a little ahead of his pursuers, 
and at the point at which they were steering, he felt 
sure of being able to elude them. He was an adept 
in these matters ; he had been in tighter places be- 
fore and escaped, and he was not prepared to give 
it up yet. “One more struggle,” he had said to him- 
self. 

How came a third shot from the police. It was at 
nearer range and better aimed. This time the after 
boatman was hit, and soon drew in his oar. Alberto 
sprang to the man’s place, and taking the oar him- 
self, the boat shot forward more rapidly than before. 
The shore was but a few boat lengths off. 

Another shot from the police. 

Still the fugitive boat held on. The last bullet flew 
wide of its mark. 

“Give him two together,” suggested one of the 
officers, and at the same time preparing to fire. 

A couple of shots from their revolvers followed. 
Alberto started this time. He was hit. 

Still the brigand labored stoutly at his oar. Ho vi- 
tal part was touched. 

“Is that devil bullet-proof?” exclaimed one of the 
officers, thoroughly excited. 

“Let us see,” said another. 

And shot after shot was fired. The trouble with 


MEZZONI THE BRIGAND. 


185 


these discharges was that the pursuing boat was 
necessarily turned a little out of her course each time 
that the officers fired, in order to give them proper 
range, and thus its headway was seriously impeded, 
while the fugitives increased their distance, though 
but a trifie. 

It had been a long and exciting chase, and the 
oarsmen in the police boat were nearly exhausted, 
while the perspiration poured down their faces. 

The fugitives were now within three boat lengths 
of the landing, while the police boat was only a few 
yards distant from their stern. 

‘‘They will land in spite of us,’’ said one. 

“Let us pour in a volley together.” 

“Swing the boat’s head a little.” 

“There — hold so.” 

“Now blaze away.” 

These orders, which came from one and another of 
the pursuing party, were literally fulfilled, the head 
of the boat being turned so as to present its broad- 
side to the fugitives. In this position all four of the 
police officers prepared to fire at the same time. 

“That is our man at the after oar.” 

“Ay, let us all aim at him.” 

They did so. And the four officers actually emptied 
their revolvers at Alberto Corrello. 

The brigand stood up in the boat, putting: one 
hand on his heart, but uttered not a. word He then 
turned slowly round and fell into the sea. 

It was the last of Mezzoni. The Mediterranean 
for a winding sheet, and his tomb the bottom of the 
Bay of Naples, 

[the end.] 


Sea and Shore Series, 


Stories of Strange Adventure Afloat and Ashore. 


ISSUED MONTHLY, 


All Books in this Series are Fully Illustrated. 


The above-named series is issued in clear, large type, uniform in 
size with “ The Select Series,*' and will consist of the most thrilling 
and ingeniously constructed stories, by popular and experienced 
writers in the field of fiction. The following books are now ready; 

No. 1.— An Irish Monte Cristo, by John Sherman. 

No. 2.— The Silver Ship, by Lewis Leon. 

No. 3.— The Brown Princess, by M. V. Victor. 

No. 4.— The Locksmith of Lyons, by Prof Wm. Henry 
Peck. 

No. 5,— Theodora, written from the popular play by John B. 
CoryeU. 


!Price, SS Oents Eaoli. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, postage 
free, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of price, 
]by the publishers. 


STREET & SMITH, 

P. 0. BOX 2734. 31 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 


90 YOU LIKE DETECTIVE STORIES? 


You will find the Very Best, hy Authors of First-class Ability, in 

THE SECRET SERVICE SERIES, 

(S. S. S.) 

ISSUED MONTHLY, 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, New York. 


This series is enjoying a larger sale than any similar series 
ever published. None but American Authors are represented on our 
list, and the Books are all Copyrighted, and can be had only in the 

SECRET SEKTICE SERIES. 


LATEST ISSUES. 


DPrioo, QS Ooixtjs lESsioli.. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


No. 16.— The Mountaineer Detective, by Clayton W. 
Cobb. ’ 

No. 15— Tom and Jerry, by Tony Pastor. 

No. 14— The Detective’s Clew, by “Old Hutch.” 

No. 13— Darke Darrell, by Frank H. Stauffer. 

No. 12— The Dog Detective, by Lieutenant Murray. 

No. 11— The Maltese Cross, by Eugene T. Sawyer. 

No. 10— The Post-Office Detective, by Geo. w. Goode. 
No. 9— Old Mortality, by Young Baxter. 

No. 8-Little Lightning, by Police Captain James. 

No. 7— The Chosen Man. 

No. 6— Old Stonewall. 

No. 5-The Masked Detective. 

No. 4-The Twin Detectives, by K. F. Hill. 

No. 3— Van the Government Detective, by “Old 
Sleuth.” 

No. 2— Bruce Angelo, by “Old Sleuth.” 

No. 1-Brant Adams, by *^Oi d Sleuth.” 

For Sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent by mail on receipt of 
price by the publishera, Street & Smith, New York 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD. 

STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 23. 


JE*rice, SS Cents, 


Some Opiuious of the Press. 

“ As the probabilities are remote of the play ‘ The Old Homestead ’ being 
seen anywhere but In large cities it is only fair that the story of the piece should 
be printed. Like most stories written from plays it contains a great deal wiiich 
is not said or done on the boards, yet it is no more verbose than such a story 
should be, and it gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting thousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt’Tildy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, tlie slieriff and all the other char- 
acters are here, beside some new ones. It is to be hoped tliat the book will make 
a large sale, not only on its merits, but that otlier play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousands who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage.”— iV. Y. Hei'ald, June 2d. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ is a story of clouds and sunshine 
alternating over a venerated home; of a grand old man. honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves his life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned in 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of country life, love 
and jealousy, without an impure thought, and with the liealthy flavor of the 
fields in every chapter. It is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ A. Y. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New Yorlc WeeTcly, have brought 
out in book-form the story of ‘ The Old Homestead,’ the play which, as produced 
by Mr. Denman Thompson, has met with such wondrous success. It will proba- 
bly have a great sale, thus justifying the foresight of the publishers in giving the 
drama this permanent fiction form.”— A. Y. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“ The popularity of Denman Thompson’s play of • The Old Homestead' has 
encouraged Street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel wltli the same title, set in the same scenes and including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book is a fair match for the play in the simple good taste 
and real ability with which it is written. The publishers are Street & Smith, and 
they have gotten the volume up in cheap popular form.”— A", Y. Graphic, May 29 , 

“Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ is familiar, at least by rep- 
utation, to every play -goer in tlie country. Its truth to nature and its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved in this story, which is founded upon it 
and follows its incidents closely. The requirements of the stag- make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes desci-ibed are brought before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life in tlie little New Eng- 
land town is almost perfect. Those who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent idea of what it is like from the book. Both are free from sentimentality 
and sensation, and are remarkably healthy In tone.”— AZbau?/ Express. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘Old Homestead' has been put into story-form and is is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to tliose who have not 
seen it the great popularity of the play.”— .Broofcij/rt Times, June 8th. 

“Tlie fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed it, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took in its representation. This is the story told in narrative form as well 
as it was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they have seen the 
play or woV— National Tribune., Washington, D. C. 

“Here we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the schoOl-house, and the familiar faces of dear old Swanzey, and 
the story whlcli, dramatized, has packed the largest theater in New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the incidents which liave lield audiences spell- bound are liere re- 
corded— tlie accusation of robbery directed against the innocent boy, his shame, 
and leaving home ; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted for thirty 
years by the mendacious Cy Prime, who has never had the courage to propose ; 
the fall of the country boy into the temptations of city life, and his recoverv by 
the good old man who braves the metropolis to find him. The story embodies all 
that the play tells, and all that It suggests as well,”— A:an.sots City Journal, 
May 2Tth. 


THE SELECT SEEIE8. 

ISSUED MONTHLY, 

DETOra TC GOOD SEADIDO IN UIDBICIN nCTlON. 


25 OoxxtiS DESsiolx. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED, 


No. 1.— THE SENATOR’S BRIDE, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 

No. 2. — A WEDDED WIDOW ; or, The Love That Lived, by T. W. 
Hanshew. 

No. 3. — VELLA VERNEL ; or. An Amazing Marriage, by Mrs. Sum- 
ner Hayden. 

No. 4. — BONNIE JEAN, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins. 

No. 6.— BRUNETTE AND BLONDE ; or. The Struggle for a Ring, 
by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 

No. 6.— A STORMY WEDDING, by Mary E. Bryan. 

No. 7. — GRATIA’S TRIALS; or. Making Her Own Way, by Lucy 
Randall Comfort. 

No. 8. — WILL SHE WIN ? or. The Charmed Necklace, by Emma Gar- 
rison Jones. 

No. 9.— THE WIDOW’S WAGER, by Rose Ashleigh. 

No, 10. — OCTAVIA’S PRIDE; or. The Missing Witness, by Charles T. 
Manners. 

No. 11.— BADLY MATCHED; or. Woman Against Woman, by Helen 
Corwin Pierce. 

No. 12.— THE PHANTOM WIFE, by M. V. Victor. 

No. 13. — THE BRIDE-ELECT, by Annie Ashmore. 

No. 14.— FLORENCE FALKLAND, by Burke Brentford. 

No. 15.— THE VIRGINIA HEIRESS, by May Agnes Fleming. 

No. 16.— SIBYL’S INFLUENCE, by Georgie Sheldon. 

No. 17 — THE HOUSE OF SECRETS, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 

No. 18.— ROSAMOND, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 

No. 19.— A LATE REPENTANCE; or. The Little White Hand, by 
Mary E. Denison. 

No. 20. — INGOMAR; or. The Triumph of Love, by Nathan D. Umer. 

The above works are for sale by aU Newdealers, or will be sent to 

any address, postpaid, on receipt of price, 25 cents each, by the pub- 
lishers, 

STREET cfe SMITH, 

P. a Box 2734. 31 BOSS STREET, New York. 


STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES 

OP 

POPULAE AMEEIOAN OOPYEIGHT STOEIES, 

BY POPULAB AUTHOES. 


In Handsome Haper Covers, 25 Cents. 


ITo. 1. 

A STORY OF POWER AND PATHOS. 


THE SENATOR’S BRIDE. 

By Mrs. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER, 

Author of “Brunette and Blonde,” “Lady Gay’s Pride,” etc. 


This is a domestic story of deep interest, charmingly \rritten, 
with vigor and earnestness, and has not a dull scene in it. The 
author’s purpose is to portray nature ; she therefore avoids all 
extravagance, and relies entirely upon her ability to entertain 
her readers with the presentation of scenes and incidents that 
never surpass probability, yet are extremely captivating. 

The story of “The Senator’s Bride” is something more than 
a work of fiction. It contains a moral that is certain to be im- 
pressed upon all who follow the career of the wife who wrecked 
her happiness because she respected herself too much to deceive 
her husband. 

PRICE, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. 

Issued in clean, large type, with handsome lithographed 
cover, and for sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers ; or sent, 
^stage /ree, to any address, on receipt of price, by the pub- 
lishers, 

STREET Sl^ITH, 

P. 0- Box 2734. 31 Rose St., New York. 


STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES 

OF 

POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT STORIES, 

BY POPULAR AUTHORS. 

In Handsome Haper Covers, 25 Ceuta. 

IKTo. 2. 

A VIGOROUS DRAMATIC STORY. 


A WEDDED WIDOW; 

OR, 

THE LOVE THAT LIVED. 


By T- W. H AIsrSHEW, 

AUTHOR OP 

**7oiiiisr Sirs. Cliaiiileig'li,” “Beautiful, but Daugrerous,” etc. 


An admirably told love story, brisk in action, witli well 
drawn characters, and a novel and ingenious plot. 


PRICE, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. 


Issued in clean, large type, with handsome lithographed 
cover, and for sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers ; or sent, 
postage free, to any address, on receipt of price, by the pub- 
lishers, 

STREET &c Sl^ITH, 

P. O' Box 2734. 31 Rose St., New York. 



: . 

■%V<tt ■ ' ‘ 


m':s^c^ 

;-' .' 

Fv»^\Irai^*. * • _* * 



-■. • 




<■ 

. ,*. * 


. » • I* * 

^ ‘-"Jj 










. V 


• # . >1 





^ 


I 


9 


• S 



^ 


r 


j 


'll 


» 




% 


s 


V 




•j* 


X- * 

/ \ 



» 

« 

X 

i 

I 



• \ 

*. ^ 


i 




« 



4 , 












** My Soul! I moan that bit of Phosphorus that takes the place.” 

Jas. Russell Lowell. 


Crosbi’s Vitalized Plospliltes, 

From the Nerve-Giving principles of the 
Ox Brain and the embryo of Wheat. 

For 20 years has been the standard remedy with Physicians who 
treat MENTAL and NERVOUS DISOEDERS. 

It strengtlieiis tlie intelleot, restores lost 
funotions, builds up worn out nerves, 
promotes digestion, improves the memory, 
cures all weaknesses and nervousness. 

// has been used and recommended by Bishops Potter^ 
Stevens and Robertson; Presidents Mark Hopkins^ 
Dudley and Hamilton; Professors Parker^ Draper and 
Beard ; by Bismarck and thousands of the world's best 
brain-workers, 

“It is a vital nutrient Phospli/te, not an inert acid Phosphate.” 

Every one speaks well of Vitalizrd Phospli/tes.'^ 

Christian at Work, 

56W.25tliSt,N.Y. For sale liy DiTOsls, or sent liy Ml, $1. 







• \ 
4 






' ‘ \ t . 

V *■ 


.VS'*' 


•i 



w* . 

» ^ 




: M*.. 


, » ^ - 


« 





/ 


I 






4k 




« 


I 




I 


« « 


k 

% 


« 

0 




k 




4 


• • 

k 

. f 

4 

’4 f 1 - 

. m * ’ * 1 


‘ « A * * 

\ ?. 

.■**-• • . 


' -. V 

• ■ . » 
ft M 1 * ■ 

! ■ ■ --A 

-1 -ft ^ 'i 

'•i • . \ * 

' ' . 1 . 

• * 

^ Li' 

• 

’..f- y * 


•# 


r 


\ 


« 



n 

i 

• I ./* ' 

• - * 


% 




I 








» * 


I 


> » 


' . ii I * 


< 





.il' 




• I 



t . 


I 


I 


' ff 


I 

I , • • 


✓ ' 
'At- 


If-* 

L* « 


% 



* 



^ t 


*1 

• % 4 


i 


♦ 

* 


/ 



» « 


, \ 


I 






» 

I • 

r'*t 




V 


» 

4 

t 




» • • 


la J 


« 


t 


I 




t , 



• # 


1 




\ 









/ , 


V/*. 


M-.:' 


' if 


0 





' « ( 
« 

>,• 




,r 


t • 

» I 


j. • 
t * 


• 


^ t V, 



14 


. 


.'■^'f ’ • • • 




V r'^u‘l 




<• 

•• 


.»i 

' I 


**<i 

I, 


''I ' 


4 jV 


' ' , ' . V' 'f'/' ':.'A 


; - 1 ^ 


rf 


^^ ' 




• • ' 
n " r 


■• '^,^v'\:;;v- n : ■ 


*' ; 


;• 


' *-.» 


/. . 

> . • 


^ A 


» • 

V 


iv.. 


• I r 1 

I . 

s 






'’'V^ 


<<*■ 


#*r 

r\^/ ♦ 4 ^‘ . ■ 








y , 


s.. . 1 . 


1 

« 

t 

/ 

• ( 

• 4 

j 

* 1 

1 


r 

• V* ‘ ' 

, • • L. 

* 

• > * * 

• ^ 

1 •. . r ^ 


t 

■ ir. 



■ ' r^'* ' 

. •' -4, ;, 

• ; ' •* 

A’; .. ; . 

/ ' ' 

■ 

- ' 

• 

• 1 • » 

• ' 1 * « 
* t 


VJ^'- 


•Vv 


.cv 


» k 


; I ' • . ^ 



A- 


- - i •’. V ■ . •. 

» » « * • 

ll * '♦ ‘ w 

r* 




!V^-. 


; 




' -i 


' •' 

1 


I 


,.V VC . 

/ 


.> 

• I ■•• \> I 

/v*- 


r-'* 


■ 1 ^ 







■ » . ' t ^ / 


V * • 






J- 





k « 


k 



* 

ft 


u 



# 

ft 





.», • ft 

• « 

I * 

• I 


.» 




> 


\ 


\ 


f 


• I 


^ . 


V 






4 


I ^ 

4 

• 4 


4 * 


I 


1 


I 






f 


f 


» 


4 

i » 


I 



I 

) 

t 









